


Save The Last Clexa

by Nekef



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe Italian Lexa, Angst, Au Save The Last Dance, Dancing, F/F, Fluff, G!p Lexa, Girl Penis Lexa, I'll probably change the title but i'm too tired now, Intersex, Italian!Anya, Italian!Lexa, Smut, almost everyone has Italian heritage, ballet dancer clarke, ghetto stereotypes, hip hop dancer lexa, intersexual character, italian!octavia, italian!raven, sin - Freeform, some stereotypes here and there
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-07-12
Updated: 2016-09-08
Packaged: 2018-07-23 01:56:39
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 42,733
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7462041
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nekef/pseuds/Nekef
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Clarke loses her chance to be admitted to Julliard School when she receives the news about her father's death.<br/>She moves to Polis to live with her mother who works in a poor district, populated by Italian descendants<br/>Here she meets Lexa, a hip hop dancer with a seductive smirk, a tender heart and a secret.<br/>She's not a normal girl.</p><p>Or</p><p>My Save The Last Dance reinterpretation because I need hip hop dancer Lexa.<br/>This shit is so 90s guys. It's like my childhood, I'm screaming.<br/>You really don't need to know the movie to read this</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Hey guys, I'm posting this at 3 am, but I spent the afternoon writing and I wanted to post it at any cost.  
> I'm sorry for any mistake, I'll probably proofread it in the morning, but I can't wait to share this with you.  
> This story won't be beta read and rememeber that english is not my native language, so if you spot any mistake please let me know so I can fix them! This helps me to improve.  
> I just want to say that I know that Americans with Italian heritage don't really know how to speak Italian, don't have accent and all this things, but I wanted my Italian Lexa in this story too, so who cares. Lasagne for everyone.  
> Also the district is seen like a ghetto. I don't know if the word is offensive in the English accepted meaning, if so I'm deeply sorry and I really apologize.  
> Never wrote about g!p, have mercy.
> 
> A kiss to [@Kendrene](http://archiveofourown.org/users/Kendrene/pseuds/Kendrene) and [@heilmojito](http://heilmojito.tumblr.com/) who both made me obsessed with g!p Lexa enough to write this.
> 
> p.s. We Italians are not all tanned and with dusky skin, you can see a great variety of features and traits, but again, it's fictional so whatever

### Chapter 1

 

Spiders.

She has always hated spiders. She can’t suffer the unnecessary amount of legs and the way they move, coordinating their hideous limbs in swift hurried moves. She can’t suffer the way they rest on their networks, waiting for some flying poor devil. And, in that exact moment, she can’t suffer the way one of those black creatures is hanging from its invisible pallet, in the opposite corner of her room. She would like to recover her shoe, she carelessly discarded the night before, and throw it to crush that thing.

She suddenly inhales, realizing only in that moment that her lungs have been completely empty for minutes.

“My dad is dead”.

Clarke mutters, eyes still fixated toward a ceiling still unfamiliar.

She’s living with her mom since two weeks. And she still hasn’t left her bed since she has arrived in that apartment apart from eating and going to the bathroom.

She keeps replaying in her head that terrible day, where a police officer informed her about her dad’s death. A truck, a crash. _I’m sorry miss Griffin._

_Sorry._

He was sorry.

Like she could care about his feelings toward the death of a man he didn’t even know. She didn’t want his sorrow, she didn’t want his pitiful expression, she didn’t want anything. She only had wanted to run home and find her dad sitting on the couch with his warm smile greeting her.

She closes her eyes when she hears soft noises of early morning activities coming from outside her door. Her mom is awake.

“My. Dad. Is. Dead”

She keeps repeating those words to herself, like they would help her to accept the fact like an evidence. A truth.

She has lost everything in one day. She has lost her home, her life, her family. She has lost her occasion to fulfill her life’s dream and be admitted to study at Juilliard School.

“My Dad is dead.”

She has killed him.

Pleading him to come and see her audition. She has killed him, forcing him to drive after a nightshift. She has killed him, being the pathetic, anxious, needy child she is.

She reopens her eyes, feverishly looking at the opposite corner of the wall. She curses.

The spider is gone.

A knock on her door makes her wearily move her gaze toward the door knob. The voice of her mom shatters against the hard barrier after a second.

“Clarke, honey, you have to wake up”

She has. She has to go to school. She has to put together some strength she doesn’t have and some courage she is too tired to find and pretend to have a normal life. Pretend she is not devastated. Pretend she wants to know some shit about any subject.

“I’m awake.” Clarke croaks. Her voice is hoarse, rusted like a unused childhood bike, stored in a dark corner of the basement. There’s a moment of heavy silence. She can almost see, through the wood, her mom with parted lips, an unspoken sentence of reassurance on her tongue.

She sits up, and only when she hears footsteps fading away in the distance she raises on her feet. She feels her legs numb, fizzy. Clarke looks at herself in the mirror hanged on the light green painted wall. The defined, slim muscles, chiseled in her thighs, a painful reminder of what her life could have been.

When her eyes meet their own azure reflection she’s almost surprised by the grimace of uttered disgust she reads on her lineaments. She looks away, unable to look for a minute longer those eyes, a gift inherited from her father.

She opens the door and heads toward the bathroom, trying to find in her mind the resolve to not drown herself in the sink. She tries to do it regardless.

 

 

 

 

Clarke manages to survive the presentation-to-the-class moment. She manages to fake a smile, to say her name, to say she moved to Polis from Washington and other things, erased from her brain in the exact moment she spoke.

She also remarkably succeeds to survive the morning. Lost with her creamy skin in an ocean of tanned bodies, dusky faces, unknown accents. Eyes following her every movement with suspicion and judgment. She still doesn’t understand why her mom chose to work in that district. It’s a chaotic ghetto of people with Italian heritage or where someone just moved from the _Bel Paese_ would have found himself, if he was short on money.

But her mom wanted to “Help as much as she can”. Naïve.

It has never been a problem for her, interact with people from different cultures, still she can’t help but feel utterly lost in that messy ocean of articulated consonants and wide vowels.

With heads following her steps she crosses the door of the school’s yard, hugged in her boiled wool coat. The blue color of its fabric makes her face seem even more white, makes her hair even more blonde, her eyes even more light. She feels a whistle from her right and her hand clenches harder around her bag, hangin from one shoulder. She glares towards the sound of the noise.

“Hey blondie… nice ass over there”

There’s a group of five people perched all over one of the tables, scattered in the small park. Two girls and two guys are laughing, looking at the brunette who spoke. Her hair held in a ponytail, two deep brown eyes mocking her with their intensity.

Clarke hesitates just for a moment before feeling a raging fever overcoming her mind. She moves fast, blunt steps until she stands proudly stiff in front of the brunette. The group still have fading smiles on their lips.

“You think you’re funny, but you’re not. You think you’re smart, but you’re absolutely not. And, above all, you think that was a smooth move, but I assure you that was one of the lamest thing you could have said if you wanted to, at least, be original in your idiocy.” She spits in a rabid endless sentence, without stopping or taking a breath. Her voice is a livid undertone she never heard coming out of her mouth before.

The brunette glares at her with a pissed face, her lips curled almost in a snarl. She stands with a fluid movement, hopping off the table and invading Clarke’s personal space, bringing her face close to Clarke’s in a threat.

“I give you the chance to repeat yourself, blondie”

Clarke is not scared as much as she sould. She feels an intoxicating dose of adrenaline rushing in her underskin, inflaming her veins and throbbing through her pumping heart. She steps even closer, almost bumping her nose with the brunette’s. The group of students just watch their skirmish without a single sound.

“Or?” Her voice reverberates with the vibes of anger.

“Raven! Stop!”

The brunette turns her head when a third voice comes from Clarke’s back. The brunette, Raven, takes a step back, looking over Clarke’s shoulder with her vexed expression intact.

A girl is trotting toward them and Clarke recognizes her when the mentioned girl, who has soft black hair too, is at her side. Her hand is raised, as the gesture could stop Raven from stepping closer again. Clarke doesn’t remember her name, but she already saw her steel blue eyes lingering oh her during her morning class.

“What do you want Octavia?” Raven harshly asks, but it seems she’s trying to relax in front of the other girl. She moves her head to one side, cracking her neck’s vertebras in an unpleasant sound.

“Stop acting like a criminal when we all know you’re not”

“Seems you two know all the things I am not” She snorts, glaring at Octavia. She smirks after a second, almost in a friendly way. Someone behind Raven breathes a laugh and Clarke sees the long limbed, dark haired guy smiling. The girl with wide cheekbones beside him is stoic in her indifference and the muscular tanned guy is the one chuckling.

Even if the brunette softened in front of her, Clarke’s rage is not yet tamed. She doesn’t want this stranger’s help and, most of all, she doesn’t want the delicious poison, which is bringing her heart alive, to fade away. She wants to retort something, but Octavia answers before she has the chance to make up her mind

“She’s new Raven, and you’re already treating her like shit because you had a bad morning”

Raven’s eyes space between the two girls and she snaps her tongue, grunting. She doesn’t answer and she waves her hand in a disinterested lash of her wrist, while she turns her back to Clarke and Octavia to join the group again.

Clarke takes a step, trying to approach again the girl, her mouth already open in an angry attempt to speak. A hand gripping her forearm stops her and she glares a scorching gaze to Octavia. The brunette shakes slowly her head before tugging her by the arm, forcing her to move.

“Let’s go… please”

Clarke tries to resist the pull just for a moment. It’s the deadly gaze of the girl with killer cheekbones that makes her surrender. She loosens the hold onto her fury with a bitter flavor left on her taste buds. The ghost of the venomous provocation she would have spit in Raven’s face it’s her sour prize.

She follows Octavia, her hips moving with angry swings while she tries to keep up the brunette’s speed without really wanting to. Octavia leads her to another table, and she sits, releasing at least Clarke’s arm. She gestures Clarke to join her and the blonde peers over Octavia’s face for an endless, stretched minute, before sitting on the other side of the table. The green paint over the surface is ruined, peeled off the table in several spots, eradicated by the recurring rains of the autumn. She can smell the wet, musky scent of mold. It makes her already nauseated stomach shrink even harder.

“I’m sorry for Raven… she’s a bit moody, but she’s not too bad, usually”

Octavia is looking at her with an amused grin. Her eyes are the most friendly thing Clarke has seen since two weeks, and she can’t help but press her lips together in at attempt of a smile.

“I’m Octavia, by the way” The girl introduces herself when Clarke doesn’t answer, Octavia looks at her and cocks slightly her head to one side “We’re in the same classes and I hope you can talk…” She tries again.

Clarke considers her options. Octavia seems at least friendly and being alone in her situation could be appealing on one side and catastrophic on the other. She capitulates “Yes… I remember you. I’m Clarke. And thanks, for earlier, I guess”.

Octavia just nods “Not a problem… I guess that’s not easy for you here, so I thought I could have helped you” She shrugs before reaching for her backpack on her shoulder. She opens it and recovers what looks like a small sandwich covered in paper stained with oil spots. Clarke looks at her while the girl uncovers one edge of her lunch before biting it.

“Yes… thank you, for real, sorry if I acted like a bitch… I’m a bit lost” She says. She doesn’t know why but Octavia’s natural gesture relaxed her a bit, erasing some of the unnatural polish that the recent events of her life glued over her everyday existence.

“Don’t worry” She says, her mouth still after full of food. She looks at Clarke frowning “Do you want some?” She offer the sandwich, relaxing her expression in a half smile.

“No, thank you, I’m not hungry” Clarke briefly smiles, and Octavia shrugs her shoulders again, taking another mouthful of the sandwich.

“What lessons do you have this afternoon?” The brunette asks, resuming the conversation after a moment of not so comfortable silence.

“History”

“Cool, me too”

Clarke smirks briefly, she can’t say she’s happy, but she’s not entirely regretting her decision of being polite with Octavia.

 

 

Spending the afternoon lessons with Octavia it’s not so terrible as she could have thought. The girl is sassy most of time, but is quite friendly. Clarke admits to herself she enjoys the company of the brunette and she’s glad with her past self’s decision of befriending Octavia. For a bunch of seconds she even forgets about her father. The memory is even harsher when hits her again, making her feel guilty for having spent some of her time laughing.

She tries, however, to act rather normal with the brunette, not allowing her to see past her pretended smirk of amusement.

They’re on their way outside the school, chatting about why Clarke has moved to Polis. The blonde avoids telling her the truth, hurriedly building an excuse that concerns her parents’ divorce. Her voice is throaty when she speaks, the tender smile of her father haunting her thoughts while she blurts her made-up story. Octavia notices her discomfort and allows her to change topic of conversation with a smile.

Beats of a rhythmic music draw Clarke’s attention and the two girls stop at the feet of the school’s stairs.

On the small river of grass in front of the façade of the building there’s the group of four that mocked Clarke some hours earlier. She recognizes Raven and the other girl, along with the two boys. A squared stereo is shouting a hip hop tune beside them, and they’re watching and shouting backings in Italian, or what Clarke thinks is Italian, at a girl Clarke never saw.

Her brown, half braided hair swings over her shoulder, brushing again the thick, cheap fabric of her black sweatshirt.  She’s dancing.

Her hips stop their jerking for a moment when the music slows in a shattered tune. She moves her torso, her neck, her long arms in slow twisting movements each one ending abruptly when the music jumps from a beat to the next.

She starts to bend her back rearward in small waves, her shoulders rolling along every movement. Clarke sees the hem of a white t-shirt slipping out of the sweatshirt, when her eyes run over the girl’s backside and along her legs. The baggy pair of grey sweatpants doesn’t hide the toned backside of the girl.

Clarke is mesmerized by her movements.

“Who is she?” She blurts out the question before she can even think to stop herself. She tears her eyes away and faces Octavia who is smirking awkwardly.

“The dancer? My sister.” She says, laughing after a moment at Clarke’s expression “Lexa” She adds, at a second guess.

Clarke nods before looking again at Lexa. The girl is almost crouched, her knees parted. She straightens again while she raises, backing on her feet and swaying her arms when the music hits a flowing sequence of protracted notes, before fading in its ending. She turns toward the rest of the group who’s whistling and clapping hands. She scoops up her arms, index fingers pointing at the sky in a smug sign of victory. She bits her lower lip and Clarke’s eyes narrow when she realizes she noticed her gesture.

“Your sister…” She repeats, nodding again, mostly at herself. Octavia hums her agreement beside her, and she waves her hand at the group when Raven notices them. The brunette answers with raised eyebrows and waving her chin. The whole group turn their head toward Clarke and Octavia.

Lexa grins at her sister, a lopsided grin that shows white teeth, glowing in contrast with her dusky skin. When the chestnut haired girl moves her gaze over Clarke and peers at her from head to toes Clarke stiffens a bit. She sees Lexa’s eyes back on hers, her smirk faltered in pair of plump parted lips. That girl sure has no discretion.

 

 

“Chi è?”  / _Who is she?”_ /

Lexa doesn’t move her eyes away from the blonde haired figure, standing a few meters away from her. She tries to scan her body again, trying to be subtle. Raven beside her grunts through her nostrils.

“The princess? Una cagna”  / _A cunt - literally means female dog_ /

“Raven” Lexa turns her head towards the brunette, glaring angrily both at her and Anya, who’s laughing. The girl with dark blonde hair doesn’t stop her smirking while Raven snorts, smacking her lips.

“I don’t know, Lexa, ask your sister” Raven hides her hands in the pockets of her semi-synthetic jacket and relaxes her back against the wall behind her. “Octavia ci ha passato tutto il giorno insieme” / _Octavia spent the whole day with her_ /

Lexa glares one last time at Raven’s features, in search of something unknown, then she brings her eyes back on the blonde. The girl is talking with Octavia and the pair takes few steps toward the road. Lexa resolves moving, leaving the group without a word and approaching her sister and her friend before they have the chance to take different directions.

She hears Raven breathing something at the group and the four of them chuckle briefly. She ignores them.

“O.” She recalls her attention when she’s mere steps away from her. The black haired girl ceases her sentence when she hears her and she turns to greets her with a smile.

“Hey sis”

Lexa grins, before looking at the unknown girl who’s now facing her as well. She waves her head in a greeting.

“Clarke, this is my sister Lexa, Lexa this is Clarke… she’s the new girl” Octavia introduces them, moving her hand from Lexa to Clarke and vice versa. Clarke gives Lexa a emotionless smile out of courtesy but her eyes linger on Lexa’s.

Jade. A forest. The sea during winter.

Clarke tries to find a way to describe to herself Lexa’s green irises. She struggles to find a name for the mixed, blended hues pooling in the intense gaze of the taller girl in front of her.

She didn’t realize that Lexa is tall until now. Her slender figure towers above her for a bunch of centimeters but the straight outline of her shoulders makes her look even more willowy. The brunette relaxes her stance, cocking one hip to the side and extends her hand for Clarke to shake.

The blonde takes it. It’s warm and calloused and in the time she expends to find a third adjective Lexa has already released her hand.

“Nice to meet you new girl” Her voice is warm, delightfully accented like Octavia’s. The rolling ‘r’, however, seems to be just her prerogative.

“Nice to meet you too, Octavia’s sister”

Lexa huffs a laugh and her lopsided grin cracks open her lips again. She can’t help but glimpse at Clarke’s mouth when the ghost of a smile appears. She sees the beauty mark above her upper, well-delineated lip and she can’t avoid to narrow her eyes, in an attempt to focus better that sinful imperfection

“I told Clarke about Saturday night” Octavia’s glare jumps from her sister to Clarke, suspiciously. She watches he brunette when Lexa moves her attention on her “Magari dì a Raven di non fare la stronza. Stamattina è stata una cogliona”  / _Maybe tell Raven to not be a bitch. She has been a dickhead this morning/_

The only recognizable word in Clarke’s ear is Raven’s name. She unconsciously look at the mentioned girl and meets several pair of eyes pointed at her. Raven is saying something and the others agree with nods or a murmured word. When the brunette meets her eyes, however, nods once and offers a barely stretched smile in what looks like a peace offer. Clarke answers with a wave of her head.

“Lo sai com’è Raven, se si sveglia male non c’è niente da fare, ma le parlerò. Comunque hai fatto bene. Will you come to the club, Clarke?” She asks, her hands in the pockets of her jersey pants. Her shoulders sag slightly and she searches again Clarke’s cobalt blue eyes. They glimmer in the fall dim light with the shaking grey of a storm.         / _You know how Raven is, if she wakes up in the wrong way it can’t be helped. But I'll talk to her. You did well anyway/_

Clarke nods after a moment of doubt. Surely her mother won’t say no, but she’s not entirely sure she wants to spend her night differently from hiding under her covers. But her dad would have forced her to go and have some fun, so she has at least to try.

“Why not”

“Nice, see you then. Octavia ci vediamo a casa” Lexa accepts Octavia’s kiss on her cheek with a tender smile. She looks again at Clarke when the blonde says her Goodbye. She then turns on her feet to rejoin the group, who is now listening to a song with deep bass sounds; Lexa starts jerking her hips in time with the warm pounding of the melody at every step, her hands still in her pockets   / _See you at home, Octavia/_

Clarke can’t help but smile.

 

 

 

“I can accompany you”

“Octavia will pick me up, mom the place is two blocks away from here” Clarke rolls her eyes when her mom nags for the umpteenth time. They’re sitting in the small kitchen of their house, sitting at the rounded ends of the counter.

The week has passed rather quickly and Clarke and Octavia has spent most of the time together. The brunette is happy to talk with someone new, smart; someone who’s surely not involved in the young criminality of the district. And Clarke, well, she hasn’t any other friends.

Clarke has told some of what happened to her projects for the future Octavia, still not telling her about her father’s death and in exchange she learned something about Octavia’s family. She told her about her and Lexa’s father who’s in jail, about their mother who struggles to give them anything she can. She told her about Lexa’s dream to become a lawyer to help people like them.

On the other hand she hasn’t talked much with Lexa, just waving her a greeting when they  crossed their path in the school’s hallways and chit chatting for brief minutes, just the time to ask how the other one was doing.

Clarke look at her mother while Abby stands. The woman hasn’t had the firmness to deny Clarke from going at the club; Torn between the gladness, due to Clarke’s decision to not spend the night in the darkness of her room, and the worry about her planned evening. She knows that there are a lot of good kids in the neighborhood, but she’s not so naive to ignore how some of her patients gain knife wounds.

Abby nips at her lower lips and inhales a deep breath “Alright sweetie, but be careful”

“Yea, yea” Clarke welcomes her mother’s hug with maybe too much coolness, but she tries her best to not be stiff. She know her mother doesn’t have any fault about her father’s death, but she however chose to live away from Clarke and her ex husband since the divorce. And Clarke needs time to tame her demons snarling at the woman.

Clarke fixes her red blouse under the hem of her high waist jeans, jumping on her feet, when she hears the doorbell ringing in three pesky trills. She slips in her coat in a hurry and her mom follows her in her way towards the door. Abby’s hands raising to hug again her daughter; They stop in mid air when Clarke disappears behind the door with a hurried “Bye mom”.

Clarke smiles to Octavia, closing the door behind her back with an inattentive slam. Octavia is hugged in the thick material of her leopard-skin winter coat. A bandana with the same print holds back her hair.

“Hei”

“Hi”

 They walk to the club, slowly, talking about unimportant arguments. Clarke hears the thud of the music, muffled by the thick walls and the distance, when they’re still meters away from the entrance of the club. She recognizes Lexa's frame, outlined in the red neon light of the club’s sign. She’s relaxed, a pair of suede work boots makes her feet look too big for her slim body and the black beanie is too pulled down the back of her head to cover more than a inch of her forehead. She has one hand in the pocket of her red pants, the other is holding the cigarette between her lips. When she exhales the smoke, slowly, it lingers around her lips for a brief moment. Clarke shakes her head at the gesture. She’s with Raven and the other young students Clarke had the displeasure to meet at the start of the week.

Octavia told her their names. The long limbed guy with dark hair is Bellamy, their cousin and Raven’s brother. The dark skinned, muscular guy is Lincoln and he’s Anya’s twin; Anya is the girl with sharp jaw and sharper cheeckbones.

Octavia draws the attention of her sister while they approach them and they all greet the girl with warm. It seems like Lexa has fulfilled the promise made to her sister because Raven, as well as the rest of the group, greets Clarke with a decent amount of politeness. They introduce themselves and Clarke accept their handshakes without saying that she already knows their names.

When she looks again at Lexa the girl is staring at her, she moves away her green eyes after a second and throws the still lit cigarette butt on the sidewalk.

They enter the club, swimming in the ocean of dancing bodies. The flashing lights run in the darkness of the dance floor, enlightening faces with closed eyes and parted lips for the briefest moment. The music is deafening, and Clarke’s heart begins to pump faster, louder, echoing in her ears the rhythm of the tune. They walk in the back of the club, climbing the stairs that lead to a raised stage, divided from the dance floor by a steel fence. When everyone pull off their jacket and Clarke sees how they’re dressed, she swallows the air gulp in her throat. It painfully throbs, reaching her stomach with an unpleasant heaviness.

She’s overdressed. In her new jeans and ironed blouse.

She looks at Raven’s revealing tank top, at Lincoln's ripped old pants. She feels out of place and Anya’s glare is telling her she’s right to think that. The sandy haired girl openly stares at her clothes with flared nostrils. She resolves sitting on one of the red leather couches with a muffled sound of disgust. Clarke diverts her eyes and meets Lexa’s gaze. It’s darkened by the absence of a clear light, but it’s warm and intense. The brunette swallows and Clarke feels some of her tension slip away looking at Lexa’s lower lip that disappear in the brunette’s mouth. Clarke sits when Lexa’s attention is brought elsewhere by Raven. Bellamy and Lincoln disappear, returning after few moments with bottles of beer for everyone.

“They give you beer without IDs?” Clarke asks, shouting to be heard over the music. Anya, who’s the closer to the blonde, answers her.

“They know us” She says with her stern voice, like the sentence is a plain explanation of the situation. The blonde doesn’t investigate further, shaking briefly her head in surrender.

Lexa gulps few sips of her beer, talking with her sister, before raising to her feet.

“Who comes to dance?” She asks, her voice reverberating through the flow of the music.

Raven jumps on her feet and Lexa raises her hand to give a high-five to her cousin. Raven starts to pads toward the dance floor with a windy gait, her hands dancing in the hair.

Lexa offers her hand to Clarke, standing close to her seat. The blonde looks at her through her eyelashes from her sitting position. “Come new girl”

Clarke smirks at the nickname and glances at Lexa’s hand, her long fingers slightly folded, waiting to hold hers. She takes it after a moment, the dancer inside her doesn’t stand to refuse an invitation like this. Even if, truth be told, she is a ballet dancer and nothing more.

She raises on her feet and Lexa holds her hand in mid air, driving her to the dance floor. They join Raven in the middle of the floor, but the girl is already lost in a pair of strong arms.

Lexa releases the hold on her hand and Clarke starts to move her hips trying to follow the music. For the first time in her life she feels like she doesn’t know what to do in the warm envelope of the tune. She doesn’t know the moves, she doesn’t know how to relax her limbs and follow the unfamiliar rhythm. She cants her chest back and forth, in clumsy swings trying to imitate Lexa’s movements. Too rigid from the dancing lessons she took since she was a child.

Straight back, clenched backside, raised chin.

Lexa, by contrast, is fluid, like a burning river made of dense liquid. She rolls her shoulders, twisting her body, slithering in her oversized pants and in her black jumper like a snake. Her limbs look heavy in one moment and completely weightless in the next. She moves her legs in familiar steps, dancing, walking, sliding around Clarke. Stepping too close or too far away from time to time. Lexa is literally bathing in the dull thuds of basses, letting the flow of the music to submerge her, sucking and chewing on her own lips while her torso twitches in a mesmerizing pattern made of curves.

Clarke feels her lips parting everytime Lexa reopens her eyes and meets hers. She’s drawn by the deepness of that gaze, the green blackened by the weak light. She can see the vitreous jade shades only in the brief moment when a flash coming from the spotlight crashes on Lexa’s lineaments.  

She tries to relax, to bend back and forth like Lexa, exaggerating her movements in an attempt to look at ease. She crashes her forehead with Lexa’s and they both stiffen.

“Oh my God… Sorry!” Clarke exclaims, raising one hand, as if she wants to touch the brunette’s offended skin, but she halts it midway between her side and Lexa’s face.

The girl closes one eye, brushing her hand over her forehead before laughing. Her laugh turns into her lopsided grin and Clarke can’t help but gaze those pink full lips.

“It’s nothing, don’t worry… But you have to relax”

“I’m not really good in dancing hip hop”

The brunette steps closer, invading her personal space. Clarke feel discomfort for a too brief moment, then Lexa’s scent is in her nostrils and she loses the capacity of discerning what is right and what is wrong.

It reminds her of fresh cut grass and the warm feeling of sand, scalded by the Sun, slipping between her fingers. She doesn’t know how a perfume can paint in her mind a sensation, but it does.

“It’s easy, let me show you” Lexa says, looking in her eyes and gesturing her intention to hug Clarke’s waist “can I?”

Clarke nods her approval, and when Lexa’s fingers gently press on the small of her back she finds the distance between their bodies dangerously short. She lifts her chin to meet Lexa’s half hooded eyes.

The girl starts moving again, slowly, guiding Clarke’s movements with her hand and her arm. She shift their weight slowly from one foot to the other, diving in the mellow stream of pounding sounds, in the sinuous path of the pop song. The light turns purple around them and Clarke exhales when she feels Lexa’s fingers pressing a bit harder in her flesh.

They slide through the song, moving together, but when the rhythm changes becoming faster and louder Lexa releases her and parts, taking a step back.

“Excuse me, Clarke, I just need…” She excuses herself, the last words of the sentence lost in noise. Clarke’s eyes flutters while she observes Lexa disappear in the crowd.

The brunette swims though the dance floor, moving boiling and sweating bodies aways with her arm. She reaches the bathroom and she doesn’t mind the queue of women, hiding herself in the first free stall. She ignores the protest of the intoxicated girls waiting for their turn.

She closes the door, locking it with shaking hands and she looks at her crotch of her pants. They’re loose fitting enough to hide the bulge growing, but she can’t help to lean her forehead against the cool surface of the door, trying to regain her composure. The memory of Clarke's warm body almost pressed against her own hits her and she feels her length hardening in her pants.

“Fanculo. Fanculo” She breathes, trying to think at anything else. At something nasty or disgusting. But a pair of azure eyes keeps popping up in her head, glimmering with mocking cruelty. / _Fuck, Fuck_ /

She exhales, her breath shattered, when her brain focuses on Clarke’s lips slightly parted in the feeble light of the dance floor. She didn’t expect this reaction. She obviously thinks that Clarke is a gorgeous girl, but she didn’t expect to lose her control for a dance.

She’s. Utterly. Screwed

 

 


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm a bit in a hurry, I hope there won't be too many mistakes.  
> I've proof read it and I'll do it again, but i wanted to post it because I'm just astounded and happy by how you welcomed this story.  
> Thank you so much for kudos and comments, they really make my day.

 

Chapter 2

 

 

Polis is not a quiet city in the least.

Clarke has verified this hypothesis in the few weeks she has spent living in the Italian ghetto of the city. The night’s chill is filled with sounds; A honk horning repeatedly. A shout, words foreign to Clarke’s ears. The strident screeching of the train, stopping its path along the elevated railway.

Clarke peeks at Lexa several times, drinking more and more details of her face, every time they  cross the cold light of a lamppost. They’re walking towards Clarke’s house, one beside the other on the walkway. Sometimes their arms brush one against the other and they both pay more attention in the following step to not let it happen again. But when they unconsciously stop thinking about their feet they end up touching again.

Octavia went home with Anya and Raven, despite her refusal to let Clarke go home without anyone with her. The girl with the name of a rapacious bird, had essentially forced her cousin to go home with them, forbidding her to walk back alone, in the night, from Clarke’s house.

Lexa has approved, insisting, however, to accompany Clarke home herself.

The brunette catches Clarke’s umpteenth glance and she smirks, looking at the girl while she slowly walks beside her. Clarke immediately averts her gaze, focusing on the wrecked asphalt of the sidewalk. Their arms touch again.

She hears Lexa huff a sound out of amusement through her nose and she feels the burning gaze of the girl scratching the chilled skin on her cheek. She eventually determines to bring back her eyes on her.

“You didn’t have to walk me home. Thank you”

Lexa shrugs, her hands resting in the pockets of her polyester quilted jacket. Clarke has already identified that for an habit; She rarely see the girl without her hands hidden in those sockets cut in pants or hodies, except for when she’s dancing. Maybe a posture imposed by a sort of need to hide somehow. And that’s curious, considering how much Lexa seems at ease everywhere.

“It’s not a problem. I didn’t want you to walk alone” Lexa straightens her back while she speaks, bringing her eyes back oh the road, a smile on her full lips. The heels of her boots lightly scratch the street at every velvety, smooth step she takes.

“But you’ll walk alone, and your house is way farther than mine”

Lexa snorts a laugh, watching her feet biting the black concrete under her shoes. “I’ll be safe” She looks at Clarke knowingly and the blonde nods, getting the hint which the Italian girl is trying to drop. Clarke is the stranger, the unfamiliar face, the easy prey.

“So, did you like the music?” She changes subject, Clarke rolls her eyes. They hadn’t danced a second time during the evening. When Lexa had come back from her hideout Clarke had tried to read an explanation in her eyes; She had only managed to notice the lightly shaking of Lexa’s head, a wordless answer to Octavia’s inquisitive stare.

“It’s not the first time I listen to hip hop, you know”

“Oh Yeah?” Lexa mocks her with an amused grin. Clarke stops in front of a small building made of few apartments. “And you dance it often too?” Clarke snorts her annoyance while she opens the small gate made of woven iron wire.

“Only in Italian clubs” She turns and closes the fence, her fingers keep clasping the metallic cords and she looks at Lexa through her eyelashes. The taller girl breathes a laugh and steps closer, standing just outside the railing.

“I can teach you more moves, if you want”

“Can you?”

“Hm mh.” Lexa nods and her grin is so intoxicating that Clarke can’t help but smile too. She slightly raises her chin to look better at Lexa. The porch’s wavering light dances on her marked lineaments: Her wide cheekbones, her chiseled jaw, her annoyingly, tantalizing straight nose are sculpted by the shadows, which extend around those lineaments. “How about Monday? After school”

“Alright, Monday” Clarke sucks briefly on her lower lip and glances at the door behind her in a quick twist of her head “Goodnight Lexa”

“Goodnight Clarke”

They look at each other, standing still for a moment, during which Lexa can’t help but steal a glimpse at Clarke’s lips; The one Clarke just released from her nipping is still dampened and swollen, the skin starts turning in a red hue in the cold air. The blonde takes a couple of steps backward, waving her hand, before turning her back to Lexa, who’s still looking at her. The brunette awaits until Clarke is safely behind the iron clad door before exhaling the breath she was holding. Steam leaves her mouth, whirling in front of her eyes, blurring her sight.

Lexa looks up and when she sees a window suddenly enlightened from the inside, she sucks in her lower lip and she starts padding her way home, without the awareness that Clarke is looking at her from a pulled aside curtain.

 

 

The key creaks against the rusty, old iron lock of her locker and Clarke finds herself fighting against it to extract the tiny object from the keyhole. She sighs when she fails again and she’s about to give up when she hears Octavia’s voice coming from her left side.

“Wait, there’s a trick, I’ll show you”

The blonde looks at the shorter girl, who is already in her school’s uniform for PE class. She nods, grateful, before stepping aside and Octavia grabs the trapped key with her small fingers. She presses the locker door with her free hand, setting the slight discrepancy between the metallic surface and the half lock inside the cabinet. The key rotates without any effort, now, and Octavia lends it to Clarke, when she has successfully blocked the locker.

“Thank you”

“Not a problem princess, now you know how to do it”

Clarke smiles back to Octavia when the brunette pronounces the nickname Raven stitched up for her, accepting it when said in Octavia’s amused voice. They exit the changing room, overstepping the threshold of the gym room together. Raven and Anya are chatting with a third girl on the other side of the hall, the dark haired one raises her eyes towards them when they start getting closer.

She looks smugly at Clarke but she waves a greeting before crossing her arms over her chest, Clarke doesn’t know if it is because Octavia is with her on not, but the brunette is way “friendlier” towards her since their first meeting.

Anya, on the other hand, doesn’t deem her worthy of even a glance and carries on her conversation with her friend. Clarke brushes her hands on her thigh, in a nervous gesture, like she’s searching for non-existent pockets where to hide her hands. She stops midway and, when Octavia glances her a questioning look, the blonde waves her hand at whatever equipment there’s behind her shoulders.

“I’ll warm up a bit… I’m cold with these shorts”

Octavia frowns when she notices that Clarke is pointing at the balance beam “On the beam?”

Clarke curses in her mind while she tries to smile and sound convincing “Yes..”

“Alright” Octavia answers after several seconds, shrugging and glancing at Raven who is watching them, clearly waiting for the brunette to join Anya and her “We’ll talk later then” she adds before taking her leave when Clarke nods her approval.

The blonde then walks slowly toward the gym tool, asking herself if a conversation with Anya wouldn’t have been better, at this point. She shrugs and, when she’s beside the balance beam, she decides to take her time, stretching her arms over her head and loosening some of the tension in her neck. She does the same with her legs, rotating her hips and lifting her knees at her chest one after the other. She takes off her sneakers, using the tip of one foot to remove the shoe from the other.

Clarke then steps on the beam. The short height makes her nauseous for the briefest moment and she deeply breathes.

She decides to start simply walking on her tiptoes, as she would have done on the polished carpet of a ballet room. After a couple of tentative steps she lets the memories of her passion catch her and she gets lost in the soft music which is playing only in her mind. Her shoulders relaxes but maintain their straight line, her backside is tightened to keep her center of gravity in the perfect spot.

Her knee slightly flexing, her foot arching midair at every step, bending to its limit and reaching the maximum extension of her ligaments; Clarke happily verifies that she still has her flexibility. Her hands are softly caressing the air, her arms graciously lifted beside her torso.

Clarke stands on the tip of her toes when she has almost reached the end of the bar and, in an elegant spin, she turns in the opposite direction.  The melody in her mind reaches a peak and with another step she’s on one foot, the other leg stretched in a perfect straight line in front of her; she brings it behind her back, with a rotation of her hip joint. She counts the music to keep the stance; six, seven, eight. She lowers her leg at the right time.

She bends her knees, arching her legs, as soon as her feet touches the rough surface of the bar, and then she jumps; her legs straight, her ankles crossing each other before she lands again on the limited space of the gym tool, exactly when the engraved sonata in her brain echoes with a deep note of a violin.

She raises one arm and she looks at her hand while she lowers it, the opposite foot raising in air in front of her. She takes another long step, her legs stretching to their whole length. She clenches her buttocks, slowly stirring up the legs still spread out behind her back.

She straightens back in first position and she stiffens when she hears someone clapping hands and shouting something in Italian she doesn’t get.

She finds Octavia, beside Raven and Anya, looking at her, crashing her hands together, whit a surprised expression on her face

“That's not to be laughed at, ladies!” she shouts and only in that moment Clarke realizes that almost everyone in the gym is looking at her. She glimpses at the several faces and eyes pointed in her direction and she jumps off the beam after just a moment of embarrassment. She avoids the gazes of the other students bending to wear her shoes again.

Octavia comes in her aid, standing at her side when she has closed the distance between them in hurried steps. When the blonde eventually rises up everyone is already focused again to their activities. She deeply exhales through her nostrils.

“Clarke… that was fucking cool”

“Thanks”

“I didn’t know you could do all that fancy shit” Octavia grins enthusiastically, and Clarke’s lips stretch in a small embarrassed smile.

“I told you I used to dance”

Octavia shakes her head “Sì, ma è stato fantastico!” she waves her hand in mid air to underline her statement and she corrects herself when she realizes she has talked in Italian in her enthusiastic speech “That was really great” she corrects herself and Clarke huffs a laugh.   / _Yes, but that was great/_

“Well thank you, again”

Octavia waves her hand to communicate that she doesn’t need to thank her and the blonde glances around the room again, to check if everyone has ceased watching her.

She finds the scorching coldness of Anya’s stare and she can’t avoid looking back. Anya’s eyes are narrowing at her and the blonde notices the nervous movement of one of her hands; The girl keeps scratching, with her middle finger, what Clarke guesses being a hangnail on her thumb. Octavia follows the direction on her gaze and when the brunette crosses her sight with Anya’s the older girl averts her angry glare after a smack of her lips.

“Don’t mind her, they don’t hate you, they’re just like that with everyone”

“It’s ok Octavia, I’m not scared, I don’t mind them as long as they ignore me”

They look at each other and Octavia wrinkles her nose at Clarke’s words. If Raven basically seems to be indifferent towards Clarke since Lexa spoke to her,  Anya has shifted from a stoic apathy to a bitter disdain. What triggered this change is unknown even to Octavia.

“I’ll talk to Anya”

“It’s not necessary, really, I don’t care”

Clarke shrugs but Octavia sighs. Anya is not an easy person and her attachment to Lexa turns her in a rabid animal as soon as anyone interacts with the brunette in a way she considers wrong or inappropriate. Maybe, Octavia ponders, the reason of her harshness toward Clarke is the dance the blonde and Lexa shared the night before.

She huffs, again, when she realizes that nothing will ever be simple in their lives.

The professor calls the attention of the class, interrupting Octavia’s stream of consciousness and the multitude of girls slowly pads their way to the center of the hall. The brunette looks at Clarke’s ponytail swinging on her back along every step and, with her eyes fixated on the hypnotic movement of her blonde locks, she becomes aware that Clarke is, as matter of fact, a beautiful girl. She definitely has to investigate if Lexa is actually interested in the girl or if she’s just trying to be kind in her own way.

 

 

 

The light scratching of synthetic rubber against concrete makes Clarke raise her eyes from the book she’s reading. She has been waiting for Lexa for several minutes, sitting on one of the tables of the small garden of the school, with her feet resting on the bench underneath. She removes her squared reading glasses, putting them on her head, to focus the whole figure of Lexa, who’s approaching the bench with her fluid padding and a portable round radio in her hand. Clarke can’t help but consider the fact that she already recognizes not only the rhythmic cadence of Lexa’s walk but also the sound that her usual boots make against the floor. A perk of her ears, well trained to memorize at once everything related to music and rhythm.

Clarke looks at her frame, hidden in a pair of comfy sweatpants and a baggy hoodie, and asks herself how the girl would look in a fitting attire. Probably impossibly willowy.

“Hey” Lexa greets her when she’s beside her, one of her feet ends on the bench along with the stereo and the girl bends slightly toward Clarke, her hands resting on her own flexed thigh.

“Hi” Clarke answers, closing the book and letting it slide in the bag between her feet.

“Are you ready for our lesson?”

“Sure, are we going somewhere in particular?”

Lexa grins, shaking her head “Just in an empty class, the school stays open till evening… There aren’t many other places where people can study” her face vaguely saddens and Clarke, understanding what bothers her, gives Lexa small grin out of sympathy.

As far as she knows, from what Octavia said, Lexa tries her best to stay out of the criminality of the district. She has a dream, limpid and plain; She wants to be a lawyer, she wants to help young people born in difficult realities like her own. She wants to improve her social status, not out of empty pride or greed, but because she genuinely thinks she could do so much more for her people than selling drugs. It’s such a candid thought, in contrast with her life and with her smug attitude, that Clarke had actually laughed, due to its naivety, when Octavia had told her. But she actually thinks that is utterly sweet and admirable.

Lost in the unstoppable flow of thoughts she reaches out one hand and lightly squeezes Lexa’s knee trying to comfort her somehow. Lexa’s eyes follow her movement and, when Clarke’s fingers press on the smooth cloth of her pants, she brings them back on the blonde’s. She stares at the cloudless sky reflected in her gaze and nods briefly as a thank you.

Clarke retrieves her hand and averts her eyes from the brunette’s to put her glasses in their case and then in her bag. She doesn’t see Lexa dampening her lower lip, taking it between her teeth.

Clarke jumps off her seat and pats her backside to clean scraps of the table’s paint from her yoga pants while Lexa straightens her back, recovering the stereo in the movement.

“Let’s go” Clarke says when she’s ready and Lexa smirks.

“It’s ‘Let’s go, _master_ ’ ”  

Clarke snaps her tongue at the mockery and she starts walking without waiting for Lexa, even if she doesn’t know their destination. The taller girl is at her side at once, nullifying Clarke’s head start in few long steps.

“Already running away new girl? Am I such an unpleasant company?”

“I don’t have many basis for comparison here” Clarke answers while they walk through the door that leads back in the school hallway, Lexa keeping the glass barrier open for her to step inside first “But you’re not too bad”.

Lexa chuckles, playfully rolling her eyes toward the ceiling “Oh, _thank you_ for this magnanimous judgment. You’re really openhearted for being a city girl”

“And you really use refined words for being a ghetto girl”

They look at each other during their banter, and they both smile at the same time, accepting lightheartedly the out-of-malice mocking.

“I read a lot” Lexa retorts, but Clarke doesn’t lose the beat “And I watch a lot of tragic romance movies”.

Lexa is laughing now and Clarke can’t help but notice how her voice reaches unusual high notes. Changing significantly from the musical, low pitched accent she usually has when she talks, sometimes almost gravelly at the end of the sentence. It’s endearing.

They walk into an empty class and Clarke sees that Lexa has already moved to one side some of the desks, with the chairr resting upside down on them. Only two seats are disposed on one corner of the room, one beside the other.

Lexa drops the stereo on one of the desks and she plugs it in the near power socket. Clarke takes off her coat, placing it on another desk. She remains in her black yoga pants and red cotton sweater. She recovers the elastic band she wears around her wrist and she ties her hair up in a messy bun; when she looks at Lexa again she chuckles, noticing that the girl has purposely put on her beanie. Lexa looks at her puzzled, not getting why the blonde is laughing.

“You wanted to get into the character?” She scoffs, pointing at the hat.

“It holds back my hair, Clarke”

She likes it, when Lexa says her name. When the ‘r’ rolls against her palate and the ‘k’ dies in a hard stroke.

“Hm mh, and an elastic band would have been too fancy?”

“Style is important in these things” Lexa says with her lopsided grin lifting one corner of her lips, she lets her gaze linger on Clarke’s clothes, before looking at her again with amusement.

“Should I start dressing like you then? Find my perfect hip hop style with baggy clothes?” Clarke jokes, her fingers curling around the hem of her shirt like she’s showing it to Lexa to better make her point.

“That would be a shame”

“What?”

“Nascondere quel bendidio” Lexa mutters under her breath without thinking. When Clarke frowns out of confusion, tilting her head to one side she hurriedly correct herself. She’s however grateful she had talked in Italian. “To throw away all those new clothes”     / _To hide all those goodies   In Italian ben di dio literally means goods given by God himself, something too God to be human_ /

Clarke chuckles “You have a point… So, shall we start?”

Lexa nods and turns on the stereo, she adjusts the volume so the hip hop song which starts it’s not too loud. The brunette then approaches the chairs and sits on one of them, gesturing Clarke to do the same with the one still free.

“We need to start from the basics” Her tone is amused, but she means what she’s saying “How you sit on a chair is crucial”

“Is it?” Clarke mocks her while she takes her sit.

“ _Crucial_ ” Lexa reiterates, emphasizing the word even more with a wave of her hand “Now do what I do”

She abandons her body on the chair, relaxing completely against the seatback, almost stretched out on the seat. Her legs are flexed and widely parted, her feet softly flat on the floor. One harm dangles from the seatback, behind the chair. She seems melted, as if her body is not solid anymore and instead she’s turning in something dense and fluid. She looks at Clarke with a raised eyebrow and the blonde tries to mimic her stance.

Clarke parts her legs and tries to relax her shoulders against the chair, but her back is too straight to let her easily put her harm over the seat back. She looks stiffen, like the position is more hurting her than unclenching her muscles.

Lexa then extends one leg and brings one hand to her face with a too wide movement, she scratches the base of her nose, squeezing it between her index and thumbs. Then the brunette points at some non-existent object on the opposite corner of the room and she slowly nods with an exaggerated smirk of appreciation.

When Clarke tries to do the same, her arm extends with the grace of a ballet movement and Lexa burst out laughing and claps her hands once.

She straightens her back while Clarke breathes a laugh too. “Relaax” She says loosening up her shoulders again, Clarke mimics again her position, trying to curl her back and her neck like her.

“Now open your legs” Lexa shows her the position while she talks, Clarke does the same right after her “Bend over you legs” Again Lexa does the movement with the fluidity of a snake and Clarke clumsily follows her instructions. “And _relax_ ”. Lexa rests her elbows against her thighs and looks at Clarke.

The blonde is indeed leaning over her legs, but her back is straight as a steel bar. Lexa chuckles, but doesn’t says anything. She starts nodding, moving her head in small movements, following the music. Then she starts moving her neck too, then her shoulders. She bends her torso from left to right, in a never-ending, ceaseless flowing wave made of small velvety moves.

She glances at Clarke from time to time, observing the rigid way in which Clarke bends her neck.

“No, Clarke, move your shoulders” She slows, to let Clarke see the way she slackens her joints. “Yea like that, and look straight in front of you, like you’re showing that you own the damn place” Lexa clenches her jaw and hardens her expression to show Clarke what she means.

Clarke gets lost just for a second in the unbearable deepness of her jade eyes and she feels almost boneless while she keeps moving her shoulders, without even knowing what she is actually doing anymore. Apparently feeling totally lightheaded helps her because Lexa approves “Yea now you’re relaxed, go on with the killer glare”.

Clarke feels her cheekbones heating up and she turns her head to look at the wall in front of her, trying to look intimidating, clenching her jaw as Lexa showed her.

The burning intensity of the brunette’s glare, however, is still on her, and she can almost feel it scalding her face. Like a scorching sunbeam in the summer heat.

“Good” Lexa approves before jumping on her feet. When Clarke follows her, raising from her sit with much more elegance, the brunette takes both chairs and move them out of the way.

“Now the stance” She opens her palms, raising her hands, to show Clarke that the matter is not something to be taken lightly. Lexa grins and Clarke feels her lips parting in an amused smile while her eyes are enraptured by those absurdly plump lips.

Lexa then shows her the position; Parted legs, feet planted on the floor, loose shoulders.

“Like this?” The blonde asks, unsure.

“Arms along your sides Clarke” She corrects her “Yea, let them go”.

She fixes her feet on the floor, crouching behind her to readjust their position. Clarke swallows when she feels Lexa’s burning hands on her calf, but she tries not to stiffen under her touch. The brunette’s slender fingers guide her in the perfect position and then Lexa is back at her side again.

“Now move, your weight goes from one feet to the other”

They start swinging their bodies, back and fort, from left to right and vice versa. Lexa keeps correcting Clarke when they start moving their feet and their arms along with every rocking.

Lexa shows her the wide movements she should replicate, but the blonde keeps moving on her tiptoes instead of on her heels. Her back straightening instead of bending. Her feet curling in an arch, her legs stretched. Her arms move gently in the air, in search of the typical positions of classical ballet, with her fingers relaxed but parted.   

They’re doing the same moves but in totally opposite ways: Lexa flows in waves, moving her limbs with the soft heaviness typical of the silent walk of a hunting panther. Clarke, on the other hand, dances with the grace and elegance of a swan, as the protagonist of the famous Ballet.

They laugh when Clarke just can’t relax her shoulders. They cackle when Lexa shows her how to walk, bouncing on her knees with one hand resting on her chest or both hidden in her pockets and Clarke tries to mimic her. The blonde can’t walk without landing graciously her tiptoes before the rest of the foot, her legs rigid.

When they stop, Lexa turns off and unplugs the stereo.

“So, what’s your opinion on my moves, _master_?” Clarke asks and Lexa smirks at her from over her shoulder while she rolls up the power cable in her hands.

“Hm… Not bad, but you still have a lot to learn” She turns to face Clarke who rolls her eyes “Maybe one day you’ll be able to do this” She says before she suddenly starts moving. She pirouettes on her heels once, she moves her torso, twisting and bending it along with her shoulders while her feet move quick steps in different directions. A small jumps and she lands on the floor, her legs open in a split. She holds her weight with one hand, on the ground, and in another swift movement she’s back on her feet. She smugly grins at Clarke who smacks her lips.

The blonde quickly straightens in the fifth position and lifts her chin looking at Lexa who raises her eyebrows in surprise. Clarke starts moving, taking two steps on her toes before pirouetting, her arms held rigid but delicate in exact, accurate positions. She lands in font of Lexa and raises one arm over her head before painting a circular motion in the air, toward the floor. She bends and she raises her legs behind her back, impossibly high; her foot two inches away from Lexa’s nose.

She leaves the stance after a second and with other two pirouettes around Lexa’s back she eventually stops, facing again the brunette.

Lexa, who has followed every movement with wide eyes and a smile on her lips is looking at her totally in awe, now. Her lips parted and her head lightly shaking.

“Alright… _What_ was that?”

“ _Ronde de jambe_ ” Clarke shrugs, but she can’t help a smile to crack open her lips “I used to dance… Classical ballet”

“You used to? Looks like you still can do it pretty well to me”

“I… don’t dance anymore”

Lexa reads the sadness in Clarke’s eyes while the girl talks, hugging her own chest and stroking her arms in a timid, defensive stance. She manages to fight the urge to take her in her arms and hold her against her chest, but she can’t stop herself from investigating.

“ Why? You’re so good!”

Clarke nips at her lower lip and her eyes darkens, Lexa takes a step toward her, shortening the distance between them but not invading her personal space. Clarke has to slightly raise her eyes to look at Lexa’s. The brunette sees Clarke’s mask drop, she reads on her face a secret suffering which the blonde had managed to hide from her until that moment.

“I auditioned for Julliard, but I… I failed”

“You can try again” Lexa’s voice is firm, but soft, when she answers at once at Clarke’s wavering confession.

“I don’t want, ballet is not part of my life anymore” Clarke relaxes and finds again her mask, she tries to smile and she tells Lexa, with her eyes, that her decision is not something that can be discussed. Lexa seems more than reluctant to drop the topic, but she surrenders.

“Alright” She says, looking at her own feet for a second, thinking about something which Clarke can’t figure out. When Lexa gazes again at her she’s smiling, her expression softened “But you _have to_ learn hip hop”

Clarke can’t stop a breathy chuckle to escape from her lips and she rolls her eyes “You just want an excuse to spend time laughing at me” she says, still laughing, pretending to be offended.

“I just want an excuse to spend time with you”

Clarke is transfixed by Lexa’s bluntness and her laugh dies on her lips. She looks at the girl with parted lips trying to catch some air to fill her lungs. She doesn’t know what to say, she doesn’t know what to think. Actually she doesn’t even know what exactly Lexa is trying to say, but just the idea that the girl wants to spend time with her it’s thrilling. It elicits a shock, which painfully runs along her spine and ends it journey paralyzing her brain with the impending need to _touch_ Lexa.

Lexa scratches her nape with one hand, looking a bit in distress, she hasn’t meant to make this confession “I mean… it’s not…”

“I like it too” Clarke stops her with a slightly high pitched voice, the words blurts out before she even has the chance to make up her mind “I like spending time with you too, Lexa” She clarifies, talking with her normal tone, this time, even if it’s still a bit unsure.

“Oh” Lexa seems surprised, but her lopsided grin shows itself in all its glory, on her lips, after mere seconds “Alright”.

Clarke doesn’t know if she finds more attractive Lexa’s eyes or Lexa’s lips in that exact moment and her eyes keep wandering from one to the other. Lexa on the other hand has already lost herself in Clarke’s azure eyes, diving, swimming and definitely drowning in that intoxicating ocean made of blue hues and sweetness.

“But you need at least something to have the right look” Lexa speaks after a moment, or a month as far as Clarke knows. She has lost the sense of time.

“You said I shouldn’t change my style”

“I just said something. Here…” She answers, grinning at Clarke’s mockery. She takes off her beanie and she moves closer to Clarke to loosens her hair, freeing it from the elastic band. When blonde locks fall on Clarke’s shoulders Lexa puts her hat on Clarke’s head, placing it in the exact way she usually wears it. Clarke is sure that her skin has melted where Lexa’s slender fingers has touched her, her flesh burned.

“Perfect” Lexa’s voice is low, and grave, and hoarse and Clarke wants to hear it again. Her breath hitches when one of Lexa’s knuckle lingers on her skin with the lightest touch.

Lexa looks at her for a long moment before taking a step back, breaking the spell casted over them. She looks puzzled, like she did something she shouldn’t and she straightens her back. Clarke would like to say that it’s ok, that there’s nothing to worry about, but a ringing bell echoes in the room before she manages to say anything.

“We should hurry, that means they’re closing the school” Lexa explains and she’s already collecting her things when Clarke comes out of her stupor and does the same. They walk out of the school in almost complete silence and they stop at the end of the stairs to say their goodbyes.  

Clarke kisses briefly Lexa’s cheek, standing on her tiptoes, before quickly turning on her heels and walking away toward her home. She doesn’t allow herself to look in Lexa’s eyes, afraid of what she will read in them, and the brunette watches her walk away until Clarke turns in another road and she loses sight of her. She pulls the hood of her sweater over her head and hides her free hand in the pocket of her pants. With her cheek on fire she walks in the opposite direction.

 

Later that night, when Clarke sits on her bed with crossed legs, she has Lexa’s beanie between her hands. She closes her eyes and she sinks her nose in the old, half ruined cotton, taking a breath.

Freshly cut grass, in her nostrils. Sand slipping through her fingers, in her mind.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A bit of one sided sin and a bit of fluff.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Omg guys! You welcomed this story so warmly! Thank you <3  
> I don't even know what to say, beside it's the firt time I write about g!p, so maybe let me know how I'm handling it!  
> Enjoy <3  
> And as always, if you spot any mistake let me know!

### Chapter 3

 

A sigh leaves her parted lips when Lexa closes her eyes. She hides her face in her hands, her elbows resting against the non-perfectly-flat surface of the desk in her room. She has finally managed to escape from her inquiring and blabbering sister.

She loves Octavia, she really does, but when the short brunette selects a target and a mission she becomes insufferable in her fierce attempts to reach-and-accomplish. And in the last weeks her mission has apparently been to drive Lexa completely insane. Pestering and tormenting her with persistent questions about Clarke. What she thinks about Clarke, why they spend so many afternoons together, why Clarke has her hat. Clarke. Clarke. CLARKE.

As if Lexa’s mind wouldn’t have been too full of thoughts about her blonde anyway.

 _Her_ blonde.

She’s not hers. In the least. They’re friends, barely.

She grunts her frustration against her palms and after mere moments of complete stillness she lowers her hands. Her eyes search the tin plated alarm clock on her night stand and she sighs when she reads the time, it’s late.

She stands from her seat and in the silence of the sleeping house she pads, in the darkness, to the bathroom, closing the door behind her back without any sound. She needs a shower, she needs to wash away all those thoughts she can’t afford to have. Or she doesn’t want to have, she hasn’t decided, yet.

She turns on the shower, snorting when the jet hits her arm, soaking the sleeve of her sweatshirt, because she forgot to move away the shower head.

She undresses herself, tossing her clothes in a messy pile of different fabrics. She stops just for a moment when she remains only in her boxers, observing the elastic band hugging her hips as if she has never seen herself before. She huffs pulling them off and letting them fall over the rest of her clothes.

Lexa steps in the shower and, closing the curtain behind her back, she stands still under the jet, looking at herself in the mirror, while her long hair starts dampening under the hot stream of water, sticking around her face.

She can’t see her straight collarbones, or her breasts, of her flat stomach reflected in the smooth surface. She only manages to follow, with her eyes, one of the drops of boiling water while it runs on her body, falling from her chin and landing on her sternum. She stares at the tiny mass of liquid until it crashes on the only part of her body she can see.

A penis. She has a fucking penis.

She’s a woman. More a girl actually. She has a feminine face, she has round breasts, a thin waist and a _cock_.

She has learned to accept it, thinking about it as some sort of thing with her own mind, something that is not really part of her body. She has learned to live along with it, giving to _him_ what _he_ needs in those nights, when she wakes up with sweat on her forehead and a bittersweet pain under the band of her boxers. She has also learned that all the sex she can have is occasional and until that moment it hasn’t really been a problem.

She hasn’t really thought about finding a girlfriend in that chaotic place, in that sea of all similar girls. Most of them conniving with the world from which she is desperately trying to run away. No one has ever proved herself worthy of the effort of explaining why she has a dick, hoping to be accepted and loved. No one has ever showed to be interested in more than some occasional sex.

_Until Clarke._

The thought abruptly presents itself in Lexa’s mind, without giving her the chance to do anything to stop it. It’s warm and painful and when Lexa realizes that she’s inhaling air in sharp breaths she understands that _he_ has decided that _he_ has needs.

She looks at her own reflection while her length hardens but her mind is not focused anymore. She sees Clarke, in her new clean jeans, at the club. She sees Clarke, walking in the school’s hallways, her face emotionless, focused on where she is going. She sees Clarke, dancing for her with her delicate elegance, with her curled feet, with her straight legs.

“Cazzo.”          / _Fuck_ /

Her voice comes out strangled; There’s Clarke, pirouetting on her tiptoes with an unconscious grin of happiness, in Lexa’s mind and she feels a shock in her abdomen. She exhales, trying to swallow with her parched throat and she finds herself fully hard. She takes her erection in her hand with a sigh, out of frustrating arousal, and she begins to slowly stroke it.  

She tries not to think about Clarke, or to think about her in innocent contexts. She doesn’t want to feel like she’s disrespecting the blonde, she doesn’t want to feel like a rabid animal that needs what doesn’t deserve.

She sobs when, at the thought of Clarke with her hat, her cock painfully throbs in her hand and she starts pumping it faster, squeezing it slightly harder, unable to stop and think about anything else. Blue eyes look at her with the scorching intensity of liquid glass and her free hand slams against the cool surface of the mirror, her nails scratching on the gleaming surface, in search of some kind of handhold she can’t find.

She can’t stop. The flow of thoughts untamed in her head, showing her what she wouldn’t want to see, what she has desperately tried not to dream about. She can’t stop thinking about Clarke’s breasts, fantasizing about how much soft they certainly are, how much round and sweet and tender. She has only seen them fully covered by thick layers of cloth, but she pictures them in her mind anyway; Full, creamy like the skin on her soft neck, and tasting like Clarke’s scent of cinnamon and expensive detergent.

Her free hand leaves the mirror and she muffles her moans and groans in her palm, when her mind loses itself in worse and worse thoughts, in a desperate crescendo. Clarke naked on her bed. Clarke moaning, arching her back and closing her eyes. Clarke under her body with parted legs, _crying_ her name, _begging_ her for more, _scratching_ her back.

She bites her palm when she reaches her apex, coming on her other hand, exactly in the moment her mind betrays her in the worst way possible, with the worst image it could show her. She feels dirty, she feels wrong, she feels her pleasure running under her skin, poisoning her, erasing from her brain every other thought, rational and irrational. Leaving her with only deep black nothingness dancing if front of her eyes and that horrible, magnificent image; Clarke, with her deep blue eyes fixated in Lexa’s, taking her cock in her mouth.

 

 

Her fingertips brush again the cloth covering the tip of her ear, feeling under her fingerprints the small hole, cut by the wear, just above the hem. She would like to scratch it with her nail, as a nervous habit, snagging the cloth to broad the hole and put her finger in the breach. But she doesn’t dare to do it, because that would mean ruining Lexa’s hat.

She has been wearing her hat since the day Lexa gave it to her. Actually she hasn’t worn any other hat since that day. It’s still saturated with Lexa’s scent and Clarke had vehemently argued with her mother when Abby had tried to wash it, even if it wasn’t dirty, saying that it’s not hygienic to wear something already worn by another person. The woman has surrendered, seeing how much Clarke is inflexible on the question.

Clarke fixes the hem of the beanie on the back of her head, pulling it lower to cover her hair and fight the biting cold of the upcoming winter. She has been waiting for Octavia for a while and when she can’t tolerate anymore standing still, in front of the school, freezing in the cold air, she resolves going inside. She heads to the bathroom, hoping she’ll manage to use the toilet before the ring of the bell.

The heavy door slides silently behind her, when she steps over the threshold, closing with a muffled thud. Clarke hears a sob, followed by a different, whispered angry voice that’s telling to stop. She look in the mirror and the scene she sees reflected in the glass makes her hands shake and her mind empty. Hiding in the dark corner behind the stalls there’s Raven, trapping another girl against the wall. The brunette’s hands are at both sides of the crying stranger’s head, resting on the white tiles, and she’s whispering in a rabid growl questions and threats. The girls shakes her head, unable to voice her thoughts anymore, but Raven urges her again.

“Tell me their names, tell me who beat her or I’ll cut your…”

“Hei!” Clarke closes the distance between them, stopping when she’s just a couple of steps from Raven’s back. Her voice is filled with anger and total disregard of the danger that she’s probably putting herself in. She doesn’t care. She doesn’t care if Raven will beat her, she doesn’t care if she’s Lexa’s cousin. She just want the brunette to let go that poor scared soul.

When Raven turns her head and ferociously looks at her, Clarke straightens her back, trying to gain a firm stance. Her azure eyes narrow, fixated in Raven’s who loses her grip on the wall. The girl doesn’t waste any time, taking her chance to slip away from between the brunette and the wall and to run out of the bathroom still sobbing and crying.

Raven follows her with her eyes and, when the door shuts again with her soft sound, she stares at Clarke with an anger the blonde has never seen. Her eyes black while she pads toward Clarke, who unconsciously moves backward, trying to maintain a safe distance between them. The blonde torn between anger and fear keeps moving her eyes from Raven’s icy gaze to her clenched fists and vice versa.

The cold edge of the sink collides with the small of her back and she feels the pain from the hit in her kidneys running along her spine and emptying her lungs. She opens her mouth, trying to catch a breath.

Raven is already in front of her, almost pressing her against the white washbasin with her hips. Clarke feels her breath against her face, heavily flaring through her dilated nostrils. When their eyes meet again and Clarke sees the irises completely eaten by frenzied pupils she’s sure she signed her sentence to death. However she can’t regret what she has done. She won’t give Raven the satisfaction to see that she’s scared, so she lifts her chin, staring back at her with a grimace of repulsion.

“That’s none of your business _princess_ ” The brunette is literally growling, spitting the words in her face. Their noses almost bumping into each others.

“You were hurting her, so it is my business.”

Raven turns her head for a second, looking at the wall like she’s trying to find a reason not to kill Clarke. When she looks at the blonde again she shakes briefly her head, disgust painted on her face.

“You’re lucky that Lexa wants to fuck you” She snarls before stepping backward. In her path to leave the bathroom she slams one of the stall’s door with a violent bump of her hand, moving it out of her way. When it hit the wooden frame of the stall with a deafening knock Clarke clamps her eyes shut, flinching.

She searches with her hands the edge of the sink, behind her, to hold on it, feeling her legs shaking slightly. Her mouth still open, she barely manages to inhale a breath while her brain desperately tries not only to calm down the furious drumming of her heart, but also to disentangle what Raven said.

She reopens her eyes, turning on her heels to look at herself in the mirror. Her blue irises frantically scan her face, analyzing the signs of fear that are still scattered over her expression; Her pupils wide, her lips parted and dry, her eyelids still, refusing to do their job.

She inhales and exhales, deeply, meeting her own eyes painted on the surface made of glass. She is astonished when she realizes, after a long minute, that what scares her the most is not knowing what Raven meant when she talked about Lexa.

 

 

 

Clarke avoids Octavia almost the whole day, barely speaking with her after their shared classes, afraid she will have to face Raven again if she spends too much time with the brunette. She has no strength left for it now, she needs to regain the whole control over her thoughts, over the chaotic flow of emotions which crosses her mind.

She thinks about Lexa, about what Raven could have meant. She thinks about how the girl has acted towards her for those few weeks, with kindness and sweet gestures. She thinks about their shared laughs during the dance lessons Lexa has been giving her, with shocks running on her skin, numbing her senses, whenever Lexa’s hands touched her.

 _Fuck._ It’s such an empty word. It makes her groin warm, heating with a pain that becomes nauseating when it reaches her stomach. Is that so? She wants to _fuck_ her? Lexa is putting so much effort in spending time with her, as she said, just because she wants to fuck her?

She would like to ask her, she considers in an angry flash. To just have no decency and face Lexa, spitting the word in her face, asking her for a plain answer.

She hopes that Raven had just said that to hurt her; because offering Clarke the admission that Lexa is really interested in her would have been too much flattering.

“Clarke”.

The low, musical voice startles her and she looks at the source of her distress with wide eyes, ceasing her walk. Lexa is at her side in few quick steps, they stop on one side of the desert hallway. “Lexa?”

“Hi… Look I’m really sorry but we can’t practice today, I have to go to the hospital”

“The hospital?”

“Yes… someone beat up Anya. Apparently she was in another… territory” Lexa spits the word, like the concept is disgusting in her mouth. Clarke nods, understanding. That’s probably the reason Raven has been so furious that morning. Maybe she was questioning the girl about who did it  “Will she be okay?”

“It seems it’s nothing too serious, apparently they just wanted to give her a lesson”

Lexa seems worried, like Clarke has never seen her. She can’t stay still and relaxed as she always is, she moves her weight from one leg to the other, her hands rummaging in her pockets in search of nothing.

“I hope she’ll get better soon” The blonde means it, even if Anya despises her Clarke knows how much Lexa loves her friend, and she can’t avoid being sorry for what happened.

“Thank you” Lexa’s expression is soft in her anxiousness and Clarke feels almost stupid for having given any credit to Raven’s words. They still pain, stuck in her stomach like a sicken spider, but they’re a bit less true now, less real. She moves, not second guessing herself, and she hugs Lexa, her hands enfolding Lexa’s waist while she presses against her statuesque, warm figure. She’s almost surprised when she discovers how much slender the brunette is under all those baggy clothes. She presses her cheek on Lexa’s shoulder, her nose bathing in the simple scent of grass and she closes her eyes.

The brunette is totally caught off guard, but she relaxes in Clarke’s arms after a second of stiffness. Her hands leave her pockets to hold Clarke and she breathes in the perfume of her hair, almost tasting the bergamot soap and the cinnamon aftertaste on her tongue.

They linger in the embrace, breathing with the same slow rhythm, none of them finding the will of letting go. When they finally part and Clarke raises her eyes to look at Lexa through her eyelashes, the brunette thinks she will just going to push Clarke against the wall and kiss her senseless.

She takes a step back, when the thought scares her, clearing her voice and Clarke seems to come out of her stupor as well. They’re both flustered and they look somewhere else, sinking in an awkward silence that envelops them with a scalding heavyness. They both take a small step backward, widening the gap they both would like to close again.

“Sunday I’ll make it up to you. I want to show you a place” Lexa breaks the silence, smiling her shamelessly charming grin. Clarke observes the corner of her lips bending, and asks herself what flavour she would taste on those full lips.

Chocolate. No, coffee; definitely black coffee.

“Oh, you’d better do it. I almost perfected my hips’ movement so we can’t just stop now.” She jokes and the brief husky laugh that escapes from Lexa’s lips it’s her sweet reward. They unconsciously shorten the distance between them again.

“I’ll tell you when I’ll pick you up then. Sorry again for today”

“Don’t even say that, go to Anya” Clarke says softly smiling.

This time is Lexa that bends toward her, kissing Clarke on her cheek. She feels burning skin against her cool lips and she can’t stop herself to be stupidly happy about it, without even knowing the reason. “Thank you new girl” She mutters. Her accented voice drops an octave lower than usual and, reverberating in Clarke’s ear, makes the blonde imperceptibly shudder.

She blinks, swallowing, and when she reopens her eyes Lexa is already halfway out the door.

 

 

“So where are we going?”

Clarke looks at Lexa, grinning beside her on the crowded bus. The brunette looks at her with glimmering amused eyes.

“It’s an old apartment where I worked last year with Raven to fix some things. They’ll renovate it next year, but it’s abandoned now.”

“Cool” Clarke looks excitedly at her, hooking Lexa’s arm with her own, reflecting Lexa’s smile with a wide grin. The taller girl keeps her hand in her pocket at Clarke’s gesture, but she can’t prevent her heart from drumming furiously in her chest for a brief moment.

Lexa guides the blonde when they get off the bus at the next stop. Clarke’s eyes wander around, observing the unknown part of the slum, looking at the ruined buildings, at the shabby windows of shoddy shops. She notices the curios, hostile glares she receives and unconsciously hugs closer Lexa’s arm. The brunette’s warm body pressed against her is almost lulling, a solid warm guiding light.

“Don’t worry” Lexa reassures her with her warm voice and Clarke gazes at her with a small smile.

“I’m not worried, I’m with you.”

Lexa doesn’t answer, averting her eyes to look again straight in front of her while they walk, but she feels her cheeks heating. She’s grateful that her olive skin is already darkened due to the scratching cold air.

They turn into an alley, walled-up on each side by tall buildings with ruined plaster and holes in the crumbled concrete. Lexa approaches one of the several red-painted fire escapes and she frees her arm from Clarke’s hold to jump, reaching the last rung of the ladder to pull it to the ground.

“This way” She says, a flashing grin on her lips, before she carefully starts climbing the ladder, one hand holding her round stereo. Clarke follows her, feeling the rusted steel of the ladder crumbling under her gloves.

Lexa completely lifts the half closed window of an apartment and climbs into the house, checking if Clarke is following her without too much effort. Once they’re inside the apartment Clarke can’t stop looking around.

“Wow” She breathes and she sees Lexa grinning in her peripheral sight. The apartment it’s basically empty and not big, actually is a two-room flat, but it has the fascination of abandoned places. There are still some old furniture that apparently the owner didn’t want anymore; An old, ruined, leather couch, a wooden table. A whole counter in one corner that was, evidently, the kitchen. In the air lingers the smell of fresh cement and the bittersweet flavor of dusty surfaces.

“Cool isn’t it?” Lexa asks, she closes the window and places on the floor the stereo before pulling off her jacket, Clarke does the same with her long wool coat and her jumper. They put their clothes on the old couch.

Lexa plugs in the stereo and presses play. Clarke looks at her, unseen behind her back, while the girl rolls up the sleeves of her dark green sweatshirt. She looks at her braided hair, the complicate pattern of knots and twines, soft brown hair with caramel highlights as cords. It’s mesmerizing, like a maze seen from on high which is utterly scaring with its intricacy, but, at the same time, makes you want to dive in it and get lost.

“Clarke?”

Blue eyes flutter when Lexa calls her name, and she realizes she has been looking at her with her mouth open. She closes it in a smack of lips and Lexa grins, amused “Are you ready new girl?” She mocks her, cocking her hips to one side.

“I’m not so new anymore… Look I also have the perfect look” The blonde jokes, smiling while she shows the brunette her outfit, with a graceful wave of her hands.

Lexa observes Clarke’s smooth sweatpants and her red, tight, crop top. When her eyes lingers on the uncovered creamy, smooth skin of Clarke’s stomach, between her pants and her top, she swallows. Hard. Desperately hoping that the warm feeling she’s starting to feel in her veins won’t going straight to her groins. Obviously, as soon as the thought hits her, it goes exactly there.

“Perfetto… I mean, perfect” She clears her voice before averting her eyes, breathing in deeply, hoping Clarke won’t notice her light discomfort.

“So, let’s start” Lexa says, deciding to bring her attention on something else, when her eyes are back on Clarke’s. The blonde smiles at her, her soft cobalt eyes glimmering a bit, knowingly, and she steps closer.

They start dancing, recalling what Clarke has already learned before Lexa starts teaching her new moves. They move their torsos accordingly, back and fort, while Lexa explains that dancing is like fighting. One time is Clarke that’s winning, pushing backward Lexa, the next is the brunette that takes her revenge, doing the opposite.

They get lost in the music, in the light atmosphere, emptying their minds from thoughts and worries. And they slowly get closer, too much close. Laughing and moving, flowing together through the pumping rhythm, sliding on the raddled parquet.

Clarke follows Lexa’s instructions, her body has slowly learned how to move more sinuously, like the brunette’s, in the past week’s lessons.

Their eyes searching and losing each others. Their hands barely touching from time to time. Their mouth parting trying to catch some air when they exhale a laugh.

“C’mon Clarke, move that ass” Lexa jokingly says in a hoarse breath and Clarke does it, shaking her hips with wider movements, enlarging the nod that the brunette is desperately trying to swallow and finally free her throat.

Clarke turns on her feet, still laughing, and with her back facing Lexa she keeps rocking her hips, back and forth, left to right. She finds one of Lexa’s hands and she takes it, pulling unconsciously closer the taller girl. She can’t see Lexa’s expression. And, above all, she can’t feel the turmoil simmering in the brunette’s chest, in her stomach, in her whole body.

Clarke bends forward her back, lost in her dance, in the lighthearted moment. She hasn’t felt so happy and free since her father’s death, the sensation so utterly fresh and restoring that she’s intoxicated. And it’s because she’s dancing, It’s because she’s dancing hip hop.

It’s because she’s is dancing hip hop _with Lexa_.

“How’s my ass?” She asks, joking and mocking the girl behind her, who is steadily trying not to press herself against Clarke’s back. Lexa would like to hug Clarke’s waist with her slender hands. To press their bodies one against the other, to dance together, slowly enjoy every painful moment of delightful friction. But she doesn’t dare to do it.

“E’ bello” She blurts out, again her heritage saving her, subtly “I mean, you’re doing well”.  _/It’s nice/_

Clarke straightens her back and pulls her hand again, in a wide movement she doesn’t even realize. When Lexa feels her own chest pressing against Clarke’s shoulder blades she knows she has to do something, or she won’t be able to stop herself from adhere against Clarke and betray her secret.

She frees her hand from Clarke’s hold and she starts moving, stepping around the girl, showing off her best moves. She spins on her heels, jumping on her tiptoes in the next movement. She moves her torso in a fluid, sinuous wave and she crouches. Jumping back on her plain feet she pinches the cloth covering her shoulder, pulling it in a smug gesture, biting her lower lip.

Clarke laughs, following her with her eyes. Before Lexa starts moving again she raises her hands, asking her to stop “Stop, stop please, you’re making my head spin”

“Good” Lexa answers, almost laughing. The brunette complies, stopping in front of Clarke with her breath shortened. They look at each other.

Lexa gazes at Clarke, and her plump lips stretch in her lopsided smile when she sees that the blonde’s face is blushed from their dance, her lips parted while she tries to catch her breath. Lexa steps closer, not even realizing it and when she notices Clarke’s blue eyes widening with lustful surprise she knows that she has lost her battle.

She can’t resist those eyes, the reddened skin on Clarke’s cheekbones, the adorable arch that her eyebrows are painting in that moment. She swallows, trying to find some sort of handhold, trying to remember why she can’t have a relationship but everything is slippery in her mind like water in her hands.

Clarke is looking at her in awe and she moves one hand towards Lexa’s face, brushing a strand of chestnut locks behind her ear, skimming its stretched skin with a soft touch.

Lexa feels something in her ears crack; every purpose, every rational reasoning, every excuse drowning in the perfect blue of Clarke’s eyes. In a swift, soundless, movement she closes the distance between their lips.

She feels Clarke answer after a moment of disbelief. The blonde closes her eyes, sighing against her mouth while she hugs Lexa’s neck to make her bend toward her, even if she’s already on her own tiptoes to nullify the height difference.

Lexa hears her heart drumming in her chest, echoing and roaring through her eardrums while she keeps kissing Clarke. She takes her lips between her own - the upper one first, the lower then - sucking them tenderly, nipping softly when Clarke sighs again. The sound, escaping Clarke’s linden-flavored mouth, makes her mind fuzzy, blurred, a void which eats every thought and mental process.

The blonde hugs her neck tighter, almost painfully, trying to draw her impossibly close and Lexa lets her do it, carefully calculating, however, the position of her hips. Her hands caress Clarke’s waste, her hips, keeping her close but not too much. She brushes her thumbs in the soft white skin emerging from the gap between her pants and her top. It’s smooth, and silky and she can almost feel on her taste buds the flavor it probably has; Because Clarke today smells like lavender soap and her usual hint of cinnamon, and it’s inebriating, intoxicating, and Lexa feels almost high.

They part, breathlessly looking at each other. But they wait barely the time to catch some air before kissing again.

Lexa runs her tongue on Clarke’s lower lip and the blonde opens her mouth, deepening the kiss in a slower one, but as passionate as the first. Clarke’s hands dive in brown locks while her thumbs brush the outline of the brunette’s jaw, softly memorizing the sharp lineament in her touch.

Lexa keeps her trembling hands still in the small of Clarke’s back, afraid that if she moves them and she tastes the curve of Clarke’s hips or that delicious small portion of bare skin she’ll lose control and will betray herself.

“Wait” Clarke murmurs, reluctantly parting from Lexa, one of her hands on the brunette’s chest, pushing lightly. The brunette looks at her, bewildered, her brow frowning a little over her glimmering eyes, darkened by the adrenaline Clarke injected in her. She has to fight the urge to look down, at her crotch, to check if Clarke stopped because she felt something.

“I don’t want to just…” Clarke tries to find the words to formulate a reasonable speech, which could give voice to the wild string of thoughts and worries seething in her head. She waves her free hand pointing at them, pointing at nothing.

“To just…?” Lexa tries to press her to continue, her eyes searching an answer in Clarke’s. They’re both frantically looking at each other, scanning the other one’s face, hoping to find something to hold onto.

Clarke deeply inhales, resolving that probably brutally telling Lexa the truth is the best way to face the situation. As far as she knows, the brunette doesn’t appreciate roundabout expressions.

“Raven said you want to fuck me.” Lexa widens her eyes, her lips parting in disbelief. Clarke doesn’t let her say anything, clarifying what the problem is “I don’t want that… I mean I don’t want just that”

Lexa is still shocked, she doesn’t even hear that Clarke alludes to her will of actually having sex with her. First she needs to understand why Raven would have done this to her.

“Raven said _what_ ?” Her voice is harsher and lower that she intended.

Clarke bites her lower lip, unsure about how to explain to Lexa what she saw. Afraid, also, that the brunette won’t believe her.

“The day Anya went to hospital, I found Raven in one of the school’s bathroom with a girl. She was threatening her to know names… I think that was about Anya. I shouted, giving to the girl the time to run away and Raven didn’t take it well…” She stops, shivering for the briefest moment, remembering the brunette’s feral glare. “She said that I was lucky you wanted to fuck me and she left”

Lexa is stiff in front of her. She looks taller than ever, even if she lowers her gaze, clenching and unclenching her marked jaw. Clarke hesitates for a moment, her hand stopping midway between her side and Lexa’s face. But she resolves stroking Lexa’s cheek, gently forcing her to raise her gaze again. When a pair of deep green eyes dive in hers Carke feels lightheaded for a moment. She tries to find the strength to stare back, to survive in front of those pools too intense to be real. Lexa is angry, worried, soft, excited; Every conflicting emotion twirling in her irises, mixing and splitting at the same time.

“I’ll talk to her. You don’t have to be afraid, she’ll never touch you” When Lexa eventually talks her voice is grave. Is a hoarse, dangerous growl rippling on her full lips and Clarke can’t help kissing her, in a soft brush.

“It doesn’t matter Lexa. I’m not afraid.” She stops the brunette with her fingers, pressing them on her mouth, when Lexa tries to retort something “I am not afraid” She repeats and when Lexa nods briefly she frees her mouth “I just want an answer. Is that true, what Raven said? Because if it’s true I just…”

“I don’t want to _fuck_ you Clarke… I’m not interested in that” Lexa relaxes her shoulders under Clarke’s caress still lingering on her cheek. The blonde smiles, tenderly and quite amused. She bites back the joke that is coming to her lips, nipping and her lower lip.

Lexa loses her mind in the brightness of her eyes, in the unconscious alluring gesture. She swallows, hard.

“What interests you?”

“You. Everything. Anything” Lexa answers, for a moment she doesn’t know how to explain herself “The dancing you. The wearing my hat in the cold you. The I’m not afraid even if I’m the new white girl you” Lexa stops when the blonde kisses her again, pressing against her body. A jolt runs straight to her lower belly and she groans in Clarke’s mouth, answering the kiss while she cants her hips backward. She perfectly knows that she has just put herself in a deliciously awful situation.

But in that moment, with Clarke’s hands gripping her sweatshirt to draw her lower, closer, over her, she couldn’t care less.

 

 


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Angst.  
> Like a lot.  
> But Clexa is cute.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Guys, I'll never stop telling you how much I love you for all the comments and kudos <3  
> You make my day everytime.  
> As always if you notice any mistake, let me know please!
> 
> I had to literally stop writing or the chapter would have been really too long.  
> But that means I already have in mind chapter 5 <3  
> Enjoy.

### Chapter 4

 

 

The unknown music, following the flow of the wind, has been echoing in Clarke’s ear for several minutes. She doesn’t know the source of the sound, it reverberates barely audible in her eardrums, softly coming from the distance. She closes her eyes, unable and not willing to stop the pictures flashing in her mind, crashing against her eyelids in a swift sequence; One leg raising, arched, followed by the opposite arm. Her back straight while her head turns to one side, in a fierce proud look toward her audience. The dazzling light of the stage prevents her from seeing any of the faces pointed toward her, but she knows that everyone is staring at her. One step and she pirouettes before jumping, her legs stretching in a perfect straight line, parallel to the floor. She lands on her tiptoes and she pirouettes again.

Clarke abruptly opens her eyes with a start when a warm smile, trapped between a pair of plump lips, presses against her chilled cheek. She relaxes when she recognizes the dry scent of grass and the brunette locks brushing against her skin. The blonde hugs Lexa’s neck with one hand, keeping her close while the brunette murmurs a “Hi” against her skin.

Clarke can’t see her, Lexa is bend over her from behind her back, over the seatback of the bench where she is sitting. She tilts her head backward, and their eyes meet when the brunette’s lips leave her cheek; They both smile at the same moment. They don’t linger too much in the mirrored gaze, Lexa bending again to softly collide her lips with Clarke’s.

 _Coffee_ , Clarke can’t help but think. She was right, Lexa just tastes like black coffee.

“Hei” The blonde answers when they part, Lexa shoots her a grin while she leans her backside on the edge of the seatback to leap over it in a swift rotation. Clarke rolls her eyes, not saying anything about the fact that she could have simply _circumvented_ the bench.

“What were you dreaming about, new girl?” Lexa asks playfully, sitting beside Clarke with a soft thud, one arm resting casually on the blonde shoulders, who welcomes the half embrace with a smile. She slides closer to Lexa, leaving no air between their bodies.

“Will that be my nickname forever, ghetto girl?”

“I won’t stop ‘til you don’t”

“You started” Clarke’s retort makes a pair of green eyes roll and the blonde breathes a laugh, which turns into warm steam as soon as it leaves her mouth. She watches Lexa's lips stretch in her lopsided grin and she sucks in her own lower lip, tasting the ghost of the coffee scented kiss on her skin. The gesture seems what makes Lexa surrender and the brunette leans toward her, capturing the implicated lip between her own. They kiss, slowly, while the soft music keeps resounding around them and they both smile, against each other, when they realize they’re following the rhythm of the tune.

Slow, when Clarke’s hands cradle Lexa’s face, brushing her skin with her fingertips while she softly nips her lip. Fast, when Lexa’s slender fingers dive in a soft sea of blonde locks, dragging Clarke close and deepening the kiss. Slow again, when Clarke hugs the brunette’s nape, breathing softly against her mouth, Lexa’s free hand landing on her thigh, caressing her.

“So, what were you thinking about?” Lexa asks in an husky, soft tone when they finally part, clearing her voice without any results. Clarke closes her eyes for a moment, flattered by the effect she has on the other girl. Lexa hugs her closer by her shoulders, and she rests her head against her.

She waves her hand in the air, trying to point at the soft music; the song has faded in a new one with a similar melody. “I was dancing” She answers with a smile in her voice.

She hears Lexa huff a laugh that dies abruptly when Clarke’s palm leans against her thigh, stroking lightly, mindlessly, her leg from over the rough fabric of her loose jeans. Lexa swallows the thick gulp firmly anchored in her throat, trying not to stiffen under her touch, keeping her mind focused on the conversation.

“Dancing?” She snorts a laugh and shakes briefly her head, while the blonde hums in agreement. They fall in a comfort silence, their different breathing rhythms waving and interlacing in the chill air. Clarke keeps caressing innocently Lexa’s thigh and the brunette manages to relax completely after she has verified that the blonde is just stroking a small, safe, portion of her leg.

“Clarke”

“Mh?”

“Why don’t you try again to audition for Julliard? Dancing is… is clearly your life”

Clarke chews on her lower lip while she weighs Lexa’s words and her answer. She still hasn't said anything about her past and Lexa never asked, respecting her choice to not talk about it. And now the blonde is struggling, fighting against herself, tormented and compressed between the bruising need to hide and the suffocating will to tell her everything.

“I told you, Ballet is not my life anymore”

“It’s in your blood Clarke, you can’t fight it”

Lexa parts from Clarke, stroking her shoulder with a tender grip to convince the girl to look at her. When the blonde complies she meets Lexa’s firm green eyes, scanning her with a tender resolution; she can’t stand looking at those pools, firmly filled with something Clarke already saw only in another pair of irises. She averts her gaze when the memory of her father’s blue eyes overwhelmingly floods her mind and she sucks in her mouth her lip, again.

Lexa strokes her shoulder, but, when the action doesn’t provoke any reaction in Clarke, she brings her free hand on Clarke’s cheek, gently turning her face.

“Hey… talk to me”

“He’s dead Lexa… My dad. He’s dead and I… I don’t want to go in that fucking school anymore” Clarke’s eyes are watery, but her voice is angry. Filled with pain and fury against herself, against her guilt, against her stupidity in pursuing a dream that wasn’t meant to be her future, but just a cruelly ironic trap. She blinks back her tears in a brief, furious flickering of eyelids, trying not to look at Lexa. She ends up inevitably lured into deep, burning jade.

“Ok… ok, there’s no need to talk about this” Lexa scans her face with a weak smile and Clarke nods, grateful that the brunette perfectly understood her need to avoid the argument. Lexa let’s go Clarke’s face, allowing the blonde to rest again against her shoulder. They stay in silence, Clarke slowly relaxing against her.

“How’s Anya?” The blonde eventually inquires, her voice still a bit raspy, but calm.

“She’s better, she’ll be back to school in a couple of days”

“I’m glad” Clarke comments and Lexa snorts briefly.

“I know that she is a… difficult person and all my friends didn’t treat you exactly well, but they’re my family, all of them, and I talked to everyone. They’ll leave you alone”

Clarke finds Lexa’s chilled, wrinkled hand and takes it in her gloved one “That wasn’t necessary, but thank you”

Lexa doesn’t answer, she just squeezes briefly Clarke’s hand “I grew up with Anya and Raven, we weren’t ‘good kids’. We had nothing Clarke, growing here amongst criminality and poverty, without any actual parent looking after us. We were always putting ourselves in trouble, filching valueless things from shops and things like that. Then, growing up, we started doing worse things, stealing bikes or pick-pocketing people. Until one day we decided to rob a house” Lexa stops for a moment, huffing a livid snort at the memory. Clarke silently looking at their hands, interlacing their fingers. “Everything went wrong and police chased us, we almost got caught, but Anya saved Raven and me, she misdirected the police from us and she got arrested. She protected us, Clarke, and I can’t turn my back to her, even if I don’t share that life anymore and I don’t approve what they’re still doing with their lives. I’ve changed, I decided to pursue a dream, but I can’t just give up on them.”

Lexa’s tone is dark, grown dim during her narration and, when Clarke straightens her back to look at the girl, the brunette keeps her eyes focused on some remote point in front of her.

Clarke kisses her cheek and she feels the skin stretching in a small smile “I would never ask you that Lexa” She says against her cheek, burned by the cold air, searching her eyes a moment later, when the brunette finally turns to look at her.

“I know” Lexa nods, her faltering smile growing in her lopsided grin, Clarke doesn’t hold back her wish to kiss it. They rest their foreheads against each other when they part, closing their eyes, taking a deep breath in the same moment.

“Do you have to go home for lunch?” Lexa question comes unexpected, but Clarke looks at her shaking briefly her head, another smile on her pink lips.

 “Wanna have lunch with me, at my house? Mom made my favorite plate”

Clarke huffs a laugh “Which is…?”

“Parmigiana, of course” Lexa answers closing her eyes, with an amused smirk and Clarke shakes her head, chuckling again.

“Of course.”

 

 

 

Octavia’s room is the perfectly balanced point between the physical definition of entropy and chaotic madness. This was the thought that occurred in Clarke’s mind, the first time she visited the brunette’s bedroom. It’s furnished very simply with a white wooden closet and a desk made in a similar material, the surface is completely covered by a confused amount of different things. Writing materials, cropped pieces of fabrics, books and sheets of paper. The non painted walls are almost completely hidden by a colorful variety of posters and fashion magazine’s clipping and pages. Clarke can’t help but observe them again, scanning rawboned faces of unknown runway models and classy, outdated attires and paper models. There’s a large double bed against one of the walls; it’s very old, made out of what seems a bad replica of wrought-iron which had lost its painted upholstery. It’s almost fully buried in clothes, bags and others Octavia’s belongings and Clarke is resting on her stomach on the only free spot of the wide mattress.

“I really need to finish this, I have to bring it to my friend tomorrow”

Clarke brings her attention back on Octavia. The brunette is messing about a jacket hanging on a stylized mannequin and Clarke smiles out of amusement when she pins the hem of the collar with obsessive precision.

“Is the project you told me about?”

“Yes! If she likes it and she exposes it in her shop I can have a reference letter for the fashion school I’d like to attend”

“That’s awesome O” Clarke enthusiastically comments and Octavia shoots her a bright smile before looking at the mannequin again, smoothing the cloth on the shoulders with her hands.

“How is it going between you and Lincoln?” Clarke asks with a smirk, remembering Octavia carelessly telling her about her dates with the guy.

The brunette shrugs with a hidden smile on her lips “It’s ok, he’s ok…” She drops the discussion and Clarke just breathes a laugh. After a moment of silence Octavia speaks again, her voice forced to have a casual tone “So… You and Lexa spend a lot of time together”

Clarke frowns briefly, evidently Lexa didn’t tell anything to her sister “I don’t have many friends here, when I’m not with you I’m with her” She respects Lexa’s choice and shrugs her shoulders when Octavia glances at her a suspicious glare.

“You like her, don’t you?”

“Why do you ask?” Clarke inquires, propping up her arm, elbow on the covers, to rest her chin on her hand. Octavia smirks.

“Because I’m not stupid, I se how you two look at each other. So I’m asking you, is there something between you two?” Octavia presses again while she averts her gaze to dedicate her attention to the jacket. Clarke nips her lower lip while her friend recovers the meter from around her neck to measure the length of the sleeves.

A loud shout from the opposite side of the house startles them, but Clarke can’t help being relieved when Octavia drops the conversation to run towards the kitchen, the meter abandoned on the floor. The blonde jumps off the bed to follow her friend.

They get into the room together, almost running, following others shouts which evidently show that Lexa and her mother are happy about something.

As soon as the brunette sees Octavia she releases her mother, who was tied in a tight hug with her daughter, and shows a letter to her sister who takes it with shaking hands and reads it aloud.

“Dear Miss Woods.. blah-blah… we are pleased to inform that you have been accepted-” She abruptly stops reading and shakes her arms in air, jumping into her sister's lap who grabs and holds her weigh with a huff. Octavia hugs Lexa’s neck, screaming into her ear and forcing her sister to squint one eye at the sharp sound “You’re in! You’re fucking in Lexa! _Columbia_ , it’s the fucking Columbia!”

Lexa laughs and, hugging her sister tighter, she finds Clarke’s eyes with her bright green ones.

Clarke is still near the door, one hand resting on the wood of the frame, leaving to the family the space and privacy to celebrate the event. She can’t avoid, however, to share their happiness, gazing at Lexa with a warm smile and gleaming eyes.

The brunette let’s go her sister who lands on her feet still screaming, Octavia almost jumps toward their mother to hug the woman who has teary eyes as her younger daughter. Lexa’s lips bends in her disarming lopsided grin and when Clarke mouths a whispered “Well done” she loses control over her feet. She closes the distance and, taking Clarke’s face between her hands, she kisses the girl, who releases a muffled sound out of surprise against her lips. The blonde grasps Lexa’s arms in a gentle stroke, closing her widened eyes to answer the kiss. She feels the brunette smiling against her lips and the gesture turns her legs in a shaking mess for the briefest moment.

“Lo sapevo! Lo sapevo cazzo!”    / _I knew it! I fucking knew it!_ /

They part all at once, startled, when Octavia’s voice reverberates in the kitchen and they both glance at Lexa’s sister at once. Octavia is pointing at them, still holding between her fingers the acceptance letter, her other arm curled around her mother’s shoulders. The woman looks away after a moment of disbelief, without saying anything.

Lexa’s hands leave Clarke’s cheeks but the taller girl envelops the blonde’s waist with an arm and Clarke smiles at her, her face still flushed. Octavia keeps waving her hand between them, staring alternatively at her sister and her friend.

“I knew it!” She repeats and Lexa burst out laughing, eliciting a huffed chuckle even in Clarke “I can’t believe you didn’t tell me!”.

“I would have told you O, sooner or later” Lexa jokes and her sister snorts. Clarke nods in approval, but Octavia keeps staring angrily at them, dropping however her arm.

“You” She speaks to Lexa “Are an awful sister and you” She turns toward Clarke “Are a terrible friend” She says, fighting the smile that is desperately trying to crack her lips open.

“And you both owe me now! Or I will never forgive you two” She adds before Lexa and Clarke have the chance to defend themselves. The blonde sighs surrendering, perfectly knowing that changing Octavia’s mind is harder than bending cold steel and Lexa laughs again.

“I _always_ owe you O” She says sarcastically and Octavia looks knowingly at her. They smile to each other and it’s Lexa and Octavia’s mother that comes to their rescue, offering everyone to have a coffee and a piece of cake to celebrate the event.

 

 

 

With the approaching of December the cold in Polis has started becoming more and more biting. The streets are crowded by people, wrapped up in heavy coats and hats made of polyester and bright mismatched colors. Clarke notices, with swift glares, dusky skins darkened by the chill air and she asks herself how impossibly red her cheekbones could be in that moment.

She fixes the hem of her scarf around her neck and hugs tighter Lexa’s arm, the brunette answers drawing her own arm closer to her body, to have Clarke pressed almost completely against her side. They’re walking silently towards a destination unknown to Clarke and when the blonde raises her chin to look at Lexa she finds her looking straight in front of her. The girl seems at ease, walking with her usual slightly bouncing walk, hands in her pockets, but the perfectly outlined profile of her jaw is strongly clenched while she nervously chews on nothing.

“Are you nervous?” Clarke asks and when Lexa gazes puzzled at her she clarifies “About college”

The brunette snorts a laugh “I’m literally shitting myself, to be honest”.

They share a brief laugh and Clarke cease their walk to kiss her cheek, squeezing her arm in a reassuring gesture “You’re smart Lexa, you’ll do great”.

Lexa nods with a smile “Thank you, Clarke” she says and the way the ‘r’ rolls against the roof of her palate makes Clarke’s smile widen. Lexa bends to kiss her briefly, just the time to swallow that grin between her plump, soft lips, impossibly warm compared to the burning cold of the night. Lexa chuckles against her lips and she parts a few centimeters from Clarke “We have an audience…” She says, murmuring with her low usual grumble, and she waves her chin to point at something behind Clarke’s back. The blonde turns her head and giggles when she notices a woman, few feet away from them, staring simply outraged and scandalized at their interactions. She’s clearly not from the Italian ghetto and Clarke realizes only in that moment that they took the elevated train to move to the richer part of the city.

“Let’s have some fun” The blonde says and, moving to face Lexa, she hugs her head, drawing her toward her neck with a sly, playful smile. Lexa envelops her waist with her long fingers pushing on Clarke’s back and, holding her close, she presses her laugh in Clarke’s soft skin. She doesn’t even kiss her, chuckling and simply moving her mouth along the gentle curve of the blonde’s neck, but she hears Clarke theatrically sigh in her arms, one of her hands sinking in brown locks.

The blonde glances at the woman again, with half hooded eyes and, when one of Lexa’s hand moves along her hip to stroke her backside, she takes her lower lip between her teeth, waving her hand toward their audience. The woman shakes her head and after one last, disgusted look she turns and walks away with a rigid posture.

Clarke joins Lexa’s laugh and when the girl emerges from her neck she has tears in her eyes. They laugh for several minutes, unable to stop because as soon as one of them calms down the other comments something about the woman’s face, her sealed lips, her searing eyes and they both cackle again.

The eventually move, still chuckling from time to time and the brunette rests her arm around Clarke’s shoulder. Clarke fights the urge to ask Lexa again where they’re going, already aware of the fact that Lexa would just shake her head and say nothing. She’s still smiling when she abruptly stops on the sidewalk, making Lexa almost stumble on her own feet.

Clarke’s eyes frantically read the theatre’s insignia, the words “Joffrey Ballet” and “Swan Lake” bouncing, swirling in her head, shouted by her mental voice so loudly that she feels a nauseating headache clawing her temples.

“I’m sorry, but I’m not going in there” She looks at Lexa, snuggling away from her arm and taking a step backward.

“What do you mean? I’m taking you to see the ballet” Lexa is looking at her with a perplexed, confused gaze and Clarke weakly shakes her head.

“I-I know, but…”

“But what?”

Clarke can’t answer. She looks again at the insignia, reading over and over the words and when she moves her eyes again to meet Lexa’s she finds an insufferable sweetness in them. They remind her again her father’s eyes with a painful stab in her stomach.

Lexa takes her hand, tentatively and she squeezes it gently when Clarke doesn’t move hers away from the hold. The blonde shakes her head and she forces a smile on her lips which is immediately answered by Lexa’s grin.

“Nothing… let’s go”

“Sure?” Lexa takes a step, moving closer to caress Clarke’s cheek and the blonde just nods once, breathing deeply.

“Sure”.

 

 

They watch the ballet immersed in a complete, dense silence. Clarke is mesmerized by the dancers, flowing with a magnificent, bright elegance on the stage, hypnotizing her with movements that Clarke’s knows by heart. She loses herself in their motion, recollecting and reliving in her mind the performances she did when she was younger. The countless recitals, with her father always in first line to see her, a shining talented child among other girls. The hard lessons with teachers strict and severe, harshly pushing on her legs or back when she wasn’t perfectly in pose, reprimanding her with pitiless words.

All of that for the Julliard.

The blonde almost skins alive her hands at the end, clapping along with the rest of the audience. Lexa follows her silently when they leave the theatre, the blonde almost running outside the suffocating location, so beloved and so hated at the same time.

They walks silently toward the train station, Lexa trying not to force her to talk, looking at the weakly lightened windows of the shops they surpass. She eventually capitulates, stopping beside the balustrade that protects pedestrians from falling in the river beside the tiled grey sidewalk.

“I thought you would like it”

Clarke turns to look at her and she rests her hips against the railing, her hands hidden in the pockets of her wool blue coat.

“I did”

“From the look on your face I’d say you didn’t.”

Clarke soundlessly sighs and gazes the brunette who steps closer, one hand resting against Clarke’s back. The blonde smiles and shakes her head, chewing briefly on her lower lip.

“I’m sorry, you shouldn’t think that I didn’t have fun, on the contrary I really enjoyed the show” She sighs again trying to find the courage to confess everything to Lexa “It’s just that I told you, ballet is not part of my life anymore”

“But why Clarke? One day you woke up and simply decided to waste your talent?”

“You don’t even know if I have talent. Are you assuming this just because you saw some stupid leg trick?”

Lexa shakes her head and watches her, frowning “No, Clarke, I saw your shining eyes, the wandering, lost, unbearably happy gaze you have when you dance. The same I saw tonight during the show” Clarke averts her eyes, unable to hold Lexa’s warm gaze while the brunette urges her, talking again with a gentle, but firm, voice. “So if you want say something about your decision, at least say something real.”

Clarke’s resolution breaks at the request. She steps away from the balustrade and from Lexa’s touch looking at her with tears in her eyes. She can’t hold back anymore the painful anger seething, boiling in every cell of her body.

“What if I don’t want to be real, Lexa? I don’t want any of this. I swear to God that you’re the only reason why I don’t completely hate this place… What I want is to go back at a time when my life made a sense, I want to have my dad waiting for me at home!” She stops just the time to take a breath, her lower lips trembling “But this wont happen, and it’s all my fault!”

Clarke sweeps away a tear from her cheekbone, wetting her suede gloves, and Lexa shortens again the distance between them, trying to find Clarke’s gaze “What is your fault?”

“My dad!” Clarke cries, eventually looking at the brunette with burning eyes, blue irises impossibly lightened by hot tears “The car crash. He died because of me, because of my _stupid_ audition! He… he was driving too fast after a night shift… Because I made him promise he would be present. And when they called my name I was so angry at him because he wasn’t there, I needed him and he wasn’t there!” A sigh escapes the blonde’s lips and Lexa can’t fight the urge to take Clarke’s face in her hand, sweeping away another tear from her cheek with her thumb “And he was dying… He was dying while I was dancing and I was so angry…A-and I’m sorry! I’m so sorry, so… fucking sorry.” Clarke’s voice quivers and she presses her trembling lips together, unable to say another word. She closes her eyes when a dull sob throbs in her throat.

“It’s not your fault” Lexa says, and she sees Clarke shaking her head, saying no, pressing her cheek against her calloused palm “It’s not your fault if he was driving too fast or if he’s dead. It’s not your fault, Clarke. He loved you and he wanted to be there for you”

“And that’s the worst part! He always wanted what it was the best for me. I wanted to be _Prima Ballerina_ and nothing else! And I didn’t care if that would have required all his money and free time. And I killed him, my stupid ambition and that damn audition killed him. And he wanted nothing more than make my dream come true” She sobs, shutting her eyes again, to blink back the scorching hot drops which burn her chilled skin in their run along her cheeks.

Lexa strokes her cheekbone again, with her fingerprint, and when Clarke looks at her again and meets those jade tender pools she fears to be utterly unable to survive under their intensity.

“I’m sure he still wants that, Clarke. He wouldn’t want you to give up”

“I know… it’s just that… I don’t think I can do it without him”

Lexa clenches her jaw, stepping even closer and cradles Clarke’s face between her hands to gently force the blonde to hold her gaze. The statuesque, slender figure pressed against her body is almost lulling Clarke. Her eyes flutter, but she looks firmly at Lexa.

“What do you want, Clarke? I mean you, in your heart, what do you really want? Do you want to go to Julliard?” Lexa’s voice is deep, darkened by some kind of emotion that Clarke can’t identify. But is tender and kind and sweetly coarse, as every Lexa’s gesture toward her.

Clarke nods, muttering a half breathed “Yes”.

“Then is up to you. You have to make your dream come true. And you can do it, you have a great talent Clarke. You can do it.”

Clarke abandons herself in Lexa’s hug, pressing her forehead in the warmth of the brunette’s neck who caresses her back slowly, kissing her hair. She grasps Lexa’s jacket, her shaking fingers curling around the fabric on the brunette’s back and she nods, again, against her neck, before parting enough to crash her lips against Lexa’s. The brunette answers sloppily, running her tongue on Clarke’s quivering lip after few moments. She deepens the kiss when Clarke opens her mouth, and she keeps stroking the blonde’s face, gently rubbing her dry thumbs on soft skin. Clarke hugs her waist, drawing the taller girl closer and the sigh that escapes her lips drives Lexa insane for the briefest moment.

When they part Clarke’s achy lips softens in a smile, her eyes still watery, but limpid “Thank you”

“Don’t thank me" Lexa answers slightly shaking her head with a tender smile "Let’s go, I'll take you home” She kisses the blonde's forehead before releasing her, she takes her hand and, intertwining their fingers, they start padding again towards Clarke’s home.

Lexa feels a painful warm, pooling in her stomach, when the realization that her feelings for Clarke are slowly growing into something new and indefinable. She has to talk to the blonde and tell her the truth. She has to confess, perfectly knowing what the result of the argument will be.

When she glances at Clarke, at her side, and meets briefly her soft blue gaze, she asks herself how she’ll be able to bear the loss of those tender, blazing eyes.   

 

 

 

 

 


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Angst and sin.  
> Sin sin sin.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here, my beloved Pastakru, enjoy a chapter with absolutely no plot and 13 pages long smut.  
> Kudos and comments are always appreciated, especially because it's my first time with G!p.  
> Love ya all.

### Chapter 5

 

 

Since her arrival in her mother’s house Clarke has found absolutely unbearable only one thing of her mother’s apartment; The _flickering_ light bulb hanging in the porch of the building.

She simply can’t avoid to stare at its arrhythmic flashing, so discordant with her natural tendency to follow a regular beat in every area of her life, to count the music even when she is surrounded only by complete silence.

Even in that moment, with Lexa beside her and their regular, slow walk echoing in her ears she’s totally unable to look anywhere else, as soon as they walk around the corner of the street. She tries to give a sense to its flickering, counting how many times it blinks in the dark cold of the night, but the bulb keeps turning on and off whenever it pleases.

She forces to tear her eyes away from the light when they stop in front of the small wire gate and, turning on her heels, she faces Lexa. The brunette is smiling and Clarke stands on the tip of her toes to kiss her briefly.

“Sorry if I went nuts. I… it won’t happen again” Clarke says while she goes back on her plain feet.

Lexa shakes her head, smiling again her disarming grin “Don’t be, you can go nuts whenever you want with me” She says and the thought that it’s a lie hurts her for the briefest moment, in a deafening flash; The fear of not being accepted by the blonde seems determined to haunt her without rest. She swallows feeling her dry tongue rubbing the roof of her mouth.

Clarke can’t help but smile “Thank you” She softly says, gazing at her darkened eyes while Lexa shrugs. The light bulb flickers again behind Clarke’s back and the blonde glances at it from over her shoulder until the light turns on again. When she faces Lexa again her azure eyes flutter between Lexa’s gaze and her lips, slightly wrinkled by the cold air.

“Goodnight”

“Would you like to come in?”

They speak at the same moment, Lexa’s low timbre almost covers Clarke’s voice while she blurts out the question. The blonde raises her gaze, looking at Lexa from under her eyelashes and she sees a sparkle of fear in her jade widened eyes. “My mom has a night shift and… it’s still early” She concludes after a short pause and the brunette considers her words for a second before nodding.

“Ok” She says hoarsely, forcing her voice to be audible, and she answers at Clarke’s smile when the blonde flashes at her a shy grin.

When Clarke turns to open the gate Lexa deeply inhales before nodding again, at herself this time. It’s her occasion to be honest with the blonde before they go too far. She can still save herself, she contemplates, she can still preserve herself from shattering under Clarke’s refusal. She can still see the blonde as a friend, helping her to settle in that unlivable place without any other desire than to be close to her.

Lexa closes the gate behind herself and she feels Clarke’s hand slip in hers to hold it. And, as soon as she takes a step behind Clarke and she looks at the blonde, who’s guiding her toward the door, she knows that she’ll never be a good liar.

 

 

Clarke’s sheets are soft, velvety fresh and they still smell of the plain, clean scent of new things. She doesn’t remember the last time she smelled something new, but Lexa forces her brain to dig in her memories, to focus her mind on anything else beside Clarke’s body pressing against hers. They started talking in the kitchen, drinking and eating something, then they briefly kissed each other on the couch while watching a movie and, lastly, they ended up making out in Clarke’s bed, one curled beside the other.

Lexa doesn’t even know how she has managed not to lose every restraint as soon as Clarke’s chest pressed against hers, but she avoids to think about the blonde’s anatomy, focusing again on the new sheets.

They’re really different from what she is used to. Her covers, even when they’re clean and freshly changed, maintain their rough fabric pattern, with a slightly frayed surface which is light years away from Clarke’s comfortable and soft blankets.

Absolutely soft, almost as soft as Clarke’s fingertips which are rubbing her nape, holding her close while the blonde bites her lower lip. Her instep brushing lightly against the brunette’s calf.

Lexa has kept her hands respectfully still, one of them under Clarke’s neck and the other on her hip, but when a soft sigh escapes Clarke’s lips she abruptly parts from the girl, her limit definitely reached and almost surpassed in a flash.

“Clarke there’s… there’s something I really need to tell you” She says, clearing her throaty voice and sitting on the bed while the blonde looks at her, puzzled and with her cheekbones darkened by embarrassment and the enthusiasm of the moment.

“Ok…” Clarke answers, sitting on the mattress in front of Lexa, her eyes narrowing in confusion. She runs one of her hands through her hair, brushing them away from her face.

Lexa looks at her hands for a moment while she cracks her knuckles in a nervous gesture, not knowing from where to start her speech “I should have told you before and I’m really sorry but I was afraid and…” She stops and raising her eyes she looks at Clarke, taking a deep breath. The blonde tilts her head on one side, but she doesn’t say anything.

“I’m intersex, Clarke”.

Lexa swallows hard, her throat completely and painfully dry clenches not without effort. Clarke frowns while she struggles to comprehend what Lexa is trying to say to her “What… what does it mean?”

“It means that my body has variations in sex characteristics that doesn’t fit the binary notion of female or male” She quotes from what her doctor has said to her when she was younger, Clarke eyes widen, but the blonde is still quiet so Lexa finishes her confession with a grave, serious voice “It means I have male genitalia”

Clarke opens her mouth. She closes it and waits for some seconds before opening it again, shaking lightly her head “Male… Yo- You have a…”

“Yes.”

Lexa swallows again and she feels her heart accelerating in her chest when a terrified stupor paints Clarke lineaments. The blonde stays still for a moment, opening and closing her mouth again trying to catch some air, unable to say anything and Lexa doesn’t react. Petrified by the awareness of what is going to happen, she feels her stomach lurch toward her throat with a thud.

Clarke eventually moves and, fulfilling every Lexa’s expectation, she stands from the bed, not looking at her. She fixes the hem of her sweatshirt around her hips and stuttering about her need to use the bathroom she disappears behind the door of her room almost running.

Lexa feels her heart almost stop and looking around she feels like she’s re-emerging to reality again, after she has held her breath under water for years. The only difference is that she can’t breathe.

She inhales a shattered breath that doesn’t even fills her lungs and she jumps off the bed like the mattress had suddenly burned her.

She knew what would happen. She knew it. And now she feels like a completely utterly fool.

She has allowed herself to believe that she could have a girl like Clarke. She has allowed herself to believe that she’s worth of some kind of love. She has allowed that girl to penetrate the barrier she has carefully built in all those years.

She storms out of Clarke’s room and crosses the living room in few long steps unable to spend another second in that house. With a raging fury builging in her chest she grabs her jacket from the coat rack beside the main door and she leaves the apartment. The heavy door slams behind her and Clarke rush out of the bathroom looking with wide eyes the door that’s still vibrating after the hit.

“Lexa?” She calls her name and when she hears no answer she moves few steps toward her bedroom, finding it empty, her arms dropping along her sides in defeat.

She’s an idiot.

 

 

Jump, bend, two steps backward.

The beat changes and Lexa turns on her feet, closing her eyes to bath in the nauseating feeling generated by the lack of a landmark. Her mind tries to fill again with memories of the previous night, but she prevents it with another fluid movement of her hips, along with the rhythm.

Lexa keeps spinning and moving her feet, weighted down by her suede heavy boots, on the ruined parquet. She dances until the song abruptly stops.

She turns at once to look at the stereo, startled, and she freezes when she sees Clarke standing in font of the speaker. The blonde has already pulled off her coat and her hat and Lexa realizes that she was so lost in her dancing session that she completely missed the moment when Clarke had stepped in the apartment from the window and had undressed herself.

She straightens her back, her accelerated breath slowly calming while she looks at Clarke, frowning, unable to understand what the blonde wants from her after the last night.

“I knew I’d find you here” Clarke says with a low voice, looking sheepishly at Lexa as if she’s expecting some kind of explosive reaction from the brunette. Lexa realizes that she’s still rigid in her straight stance, her chin lifted in an attempt to look proudly unperturbed by Clarke’s presence. However when she talks her voice is too hoarse and dry to sound uninterested.

“Why… why are you here?”

Clarke relaxes her shoulders and sighs, moving a couple of steps toward Lexa. When the brunette doesn’t react she closes the distance, stopping in front of the other girl. Green eyes scans her face in a frenzy, pupils widening while the brunette sucks her lower lip in her mouth. The blonde takes a moment to look at Lexa’s lineaments before answering her question.

“I have always been taught that life is black or white. That there’s only one way to see things, that there’s only one way to do something in the right way. Because Ballet is like that; If you want to do a _Chassé_ , you can do it only in _one_ way, Lexa, or it won’t be _perfect_. Ballet has been my whole reality for almost all my life and my brain, my body and my whole being have been shaped and plastered to be nothing less than the perfect right _Ballerina.”_ Clarke takes a breath and Lexa clenches her jaw, not saying anything to not interrupt her monologue.

“And then there’s you, Lexa. And you’re probably the farthest thing from the concept of black and white I have ever met. And this thing drives me completely mad and makes me freak out on one side because I can’t put you in one of my mental boxes and classify you. But, on the other side, I simply cannot think about losing you, because you… You’re exactly what I need. You’re fresh air. You’re water. You’re _life._ You’re literally the first person that made me want to talk about my dad and managed also to change my mind and-”

Clarke can’t finish her sentence, Lexa’s mouth on hers in less than a moment to eat her words, to make them die on the warmth of her lips. The brunette hugs her waist, pressing her impossibly close against her body and Clarke’s hands find a handhold around her neck, her back arching under the impromptu momentum of Lexa’s kiss. She pushes her tongue in Lexa’s mouth and, pushing against her to straight her back, she makes Lexa stumble a couple of steps backward. The brunette ends pushed against the seatback of the couch and they part when Lexa snorts against Clarke’s lips, trying not to lose her balance and fall on the sofa.

They look at each other in a daze, eyes jumping from one to the other and Lexa can’t stop the relieved laugh that comes to her lips. Clarke smiles, curling around her fingers Lexa’s new hair on her neck, but her tone sounds offended.

“I tried that speech a billion times this morning and you didn’t even let me finish it”

“Sorry… I’m just so relieved that you’re here and… I’m really sorry I didn’t tell you earlier”

Clarke smiles, trying to answer that it doesn’t matter, but Lexa’s eyes fall on her lips, fogged by the desire to bite them and suck them between her own and, as soon as Clarke parts them, the brunette is already hushing her with a soft, demanding kiss.

 

 

Clarke's mind still struggles to understand how exactly she's ended up pressed against the door of her room, completely surrounded and intoxicated by the scent of freshly cut grass. She remembers kissing Lexa in the silent emptiness of that abandoned apartment, the coolness perspiring from the non plastered walls in plain contraposition with the boiling, sweet warmth of Lexa's body. Her mind simply blanked, erasing every rationality until that very moment.

A whimper leaves her mouth when Lexa's lips trace the curve of her neck, sucking the skin before grazing it with white teeth, leaving a path of dark marks. She hears a sound, muffled against her pulsing point as a reaction.

Clarke grasps the worn cotton of Lexa's sweatshirt, on her shoulders, keeping the girl close to her, over her. Squirming against the door when the brunette's hands push on her backside, making her arch her back to press against Lexa's crotch; She feels the girl hardening, her dick, covered by her thick pants, pressing against her lower abdomen.

She needs to see. She needs to touch. She needs to have in her hands as much Lexa as she can.

She feels so stupid now, while the boiling heat scalding her core begins to run along her stomach, slithering under the upper layer of her skin and setting her on fire. She feels so stupid for her doubts about Lexa's difference, for thinking that Lexa could be anything but _right_. 

Lexa's lips are on Clarke’s again, kissing her with a tender ferocity dictated by her arousal and by the simple, plain fact that it's _Clarke_ the one she is kissing, the one she is tasting with her touch. The blonde feels clearly that Lexa is fully hard now and her hands run along Lexa's forearms, skimming over the sleeves all the way to her jeans. Her fingers stumble around the steel buttons while she tries to open her pants.

Clarke has barely managed to free the first button when Lexa parts from her, catching one of her wrist in a hold so soft that is more a stroke.

"We have no rush" Lexa whispers on her lips, in a calm, husky undertone, squeezing briefly Clarke’s hand before letting her go. The blonde brings her hands on Lexa's chest, caressing her, curling her fingers around the soft fabric.

"Sorry"

"It's ok, you don't have to apologize" Lexa's shade is grave and heavy, sweetened by the smile Clarke hears in her voice. It’s a poison that Clarke can't stop drinking, letting it glide all over her tongue like a shard of boiling ice.

She closes her eyes and Lexa’s hands are on her waist after a second, her thumbs tickling her in soft brushes. She presses once again Clarke against the door to kiss her, trying to follow her own advice and enjoy every painful second of that mind-blowing moment. The blonde stops her with a light pressure on her chest.

"I mean for acting like a shit yesterday" Clarke murmurs, gazing Lexa's deep jade eyes with her own half hooded. They're dark from the lust pooling, twirling, in them, but they softens at the blonde’s words.

"It's nothing Clarke. As long as you're sure now and you won’t regret it, I don't care about anything else"

Clarke nods and her fingers get lost in the brown soft curls on Lexa's neck. She raises one leg, hooking Lexa's hip to keep her as close as she can "I'm more than sure." 

She can't push her voice to be louder than a throaty whisper but the hunger she sees reflected in Lexa’s scorching glare tells her that the girl has perfectly heard her. Lexa doesn’t let her invitation go to waste and her calloused palm runs along Clarke’s curled leg, her fingers engraving thin burning lines of lust in the creamy flesh.

Clarke captures her mouth in a searing kiss, sucking on her plump lips, biting and licking the small dimple that crosses Lexa's lower one. She feels Lexa groaning against her mouth and when the brunette's hands squeeze again her ass, releasing her leg, she starts pushing the girl backward, leaving the surface of the door. 

Lexa stumbles a bit over her own feet, following Clarke's push without any resistance, and she raises her arms when Clarke starts tugging at her sweatshirt. It lands on the floor and Clarke takes a moment to admire the just now discovered tribal tattoo on Lexa’s right arm, skimming the inked skin with her fingertips.

The brunette smiles at her caress and this time she doesn't stop the dancer when Clarke tries again to open her baggy black jeans. She kicks them away when they fall around her ankles.

Clarke adheres completely against her body, enlacing her hands around Lexa's neck. The brunette’s mind becomes a dusty black desert, emptied by any logical thought and filled by the dense smoke of desire, when she clearly feels every curve, shaped in soft creamy flesh, pressing against her overheated body. 

Clarke pushes Lexa to make her sit on the bed when they reach it. The brunette falls on the mattress and, sitting on the edge, she stalls herself laying her hands on the covers. She looks at Clarke from her sitting position, her lips parting in awe when the girl frees her legs from the pants in a swift move.

The blonde takes a moment, then, to look at Lexa; The half naked girl in front of her seems almost defenseless with her glistening glare completely out of focus. Her slender, long body is fit thanks to her passion for dance. She's not too muscular, she's not too slim. She’s just perfect.

Clarke’s eyes eventually falls on Lexa's boxers, her bulge pressing against the cloth of the garment in a way she can only imagine to be unpleasant

"Clarke.." There's a hidden question in the syllables of her name, chanted in that hoarse, gravelly accent. Clarke steps out of the jeans pooling at her feet and she closes the distance between Lexa and her without saying anything and pushing onto Lexa's shoulders with one hand she gesture her to sit further on the bed.

Clarke follows her while Lexa complies her soundless request and she sits on her legs, straddling her lap, when they reach the centre of the mattress.

They both whimper when their hips touch. 

Clarke feels Lexa's hard length pressed against her overheated core, and she crashes her lips against Lexa's, eating the growl rippling on the brunette’s tongue.

Lexa doesn't waste any time before parting to peel Clarke's sweater off her torso. They look at each other just for an instant before kissing again. Clarke rolls her hips and the strangled noise that the gesture elicits from the back of Lexa's throat is intoxicating.

She needs to touch her, to hear again that sound. Loud. Louder. 

Lexa trembles under her and her hands reach Clarke’s thigh to stroke her when the blonde’s hand reaches the hem of her boxes, pushing it lower enough to slip under them. There's a unbearably long second of stillness during wich she tries not to part from Clarke’s lips in search of some air, afraid that she’ll faint. She moans a hoarse sound in Clarke's mouth when her hand brushes her cock and the blonde nips her upper lip as an answer.

Clarke pulls her dick out of the boxers and moves her hand along it in a tentative stroke, after a moment of lingering. 

"C-larke" her name crashes, muffled, against her lips and her brain blacks out, bathing in the black urge of hearing Lexa moan again. She gently squeezes the sensitive flesh in her palm and Lexa shudders again, exhaling against her lips. 

"I.." Clarke tries to speak and the brunette parts from her, looking at her blue deep eyes with her own half hooded from the pleasure. "You're.." Clarke tries again, but she can't disband and voice the chaotic bundle of thoughts she has tangled up in her mind. She doesn’t even know what she’s trying to say other than the fact that everything is making her brain a shaking mess.

She gives up and resolves kissing Lexa again, while she start pumping with her hand. The brunette squirms under her touch and Lexa’s hands clasps almost painfully her thighs, trembling in their path toward Clarke’s ass. When she fondles it the blonde sighs, the sound sinking on the brunette’s tongue. 

Lexa tries to muffle her sounds of pleasure against Clarke's lips, but the blonde just smiles when she occasionally fails. She caresses Lexa's tip with her thumb and the brunette thinks she'll just collapse. There's no way that this is the reality, and if it is, there’s no way she can survive it. 

Clarke strokes her until she feels Lexa's tip wetting with drops of warm liquid. She brushes her thumb again over the head and she stops, smirking for the sound of displeasure that lexa muffles against her cheek. She hooks her boxers with two fingers, trying to pull them lower. "Off.." She croaks. Unable to say anything more articulated "Off".

But Lexa takes her arms and lifts them at both sides of their bodies, interlacing their fingers and kissing Clarke's neck with tender pecks of her lips.

"We have time" She whispers against her skin and Clarke sighs. She relaxes, lowering her arms and indulging Lexa's movements when the girls opens the clasps of her bra and discards it off Clarke's body.

She brushes back Clarke's hair to look at her without obstacles and Clarke feels her lower abdomen explode when she sees the utter hunger painted in Lexa's gaze and she shivers following the jolt rushing along her spine.

"Bellissima" Lexa murmurs the unknown word, two fingers running in the space between her breasts "Sei bellissima cazzo".  / _Gorgeous. You’re fucking gorgeous_ /

Clarke kisses her again, but Lexa's mouth soon leaves hers to kiss her neck, to nip the stretched flesh on her collarbones, to run her tongue on one of clarke's breast.

"Ah-" 

Clarke can't stop the sound throbbing in her throat when Lexa's mouth encircle her nipple, sucking gently, and her hands find a hold on straight shoulders, fingers scratching tan skin .

Lexa takes her time, stroking with her burning tongue the tender flesh while her hands draws Clarke closer pushing on her back. The blonde rolls again her hips and the wet, scorching, pressure on her cock almost drives Lexa insane. She has to bite the inside of her cheek, while she moves to relish Clarke's other breast, in order to not rush her movements. 

Clarke softly moans when teeth scrapes the pink skin of her nipple and she closes her eyes, tilting her head backward while her nails run on Lexa's nape. 

She forces Lexa to leave her chest when she pulls on the girl's bra. The brunette raises her hand and Clarke frees her from the sportive undergarment, tossing it wherever it lands.

She gets off the bed and looks at Lexa while the brunette gazes at her, eagerly looking at the slim, delicate figure of the ballerina. The thin waist, the soft breasts, the chiseled thighs make Lexa’s mind go numb, light and for just a moment she doesn’t know what she’s supposed to do.

She blinks, focusing again, and pulls down her boxers, freeing her hips and her erection that throbs lightly when Lexa brings her eyes back on Clarke which is still observing her. The brunette swallows hard when the blonde finally moves, drinking the sinuous wave Clarke paints in the air while she pulls her slips toward her ankles. She lets them fall at her feet and, stepping out of them with a graceful step on the tip of her foot, she approaches the bed again. 

Lexa extends her hand and Clarke takes it with her shaking one, climbing again on the bed, before sitting again on Lexa' s lap.

They kiss, languidly and slowly, Clarke’s wet, boiling center brushing from time to time against Lexa's cock, making the brunette groan against her lips.

"Do we need a.. Condom?"

The blonde asks, unsure and Lexa shakes briefly her head.

"I'm not... I mean I can't-"

Clarke stops her with a kiss "Ok" she murmurs against her lips, brushing her nose against Lexa's when she changes their angle "Ok".

She looks at Lexa again and the deep black she finds twirling in her eyes almost scares her. A painful, scratching, jolts runs under her first skin, burning every nerve it finds in its paths towards Clarke's core. She squirms in Lexa's arms, shuddering under her tender caresses.

She raises on her knees and Lexa’s hands fall on her hips, guiding her, slowly, onto her cock. They both sigh when Lexa’s tip dips into Clarke’s boiling warm and they stop for a second while the blonde readjusts herself. Clarke crashes their lips together, muffling her breathed little cries in Lexa’s mouth, while she takes more and more of her erection in her.

They stay still for a moment when Lexa is completely inside her and the brunette rests her forehead on Clarke’s shoulder with a sigh. The blonde hugs her head, enfolding it with her arms, almost lulling her and she kisses her hair.

She starts moving, slowly rolling her hips, helped by Lexa’s hands that slip on her backside to hold part of her weight and the brunette chokes a groan, snuggling her nose in cinnamon scented blonde locks to kiss Clarke’s neck, sucking and nipping lightly her tender flesh.

They move with no rush, at a quiet pace and Clarke’s arm hugs tighter her head, urging her to continue. Lexa feels Clarke’s womb squeezing her and she shuts her eyes closed while a spiking stab in her belly makes her mind lose every connection with reality, melting her in a wave of pure pleasure.

She presses her mouth against the creamy skin of Clarke’s neck to muffle her own moans, yearning to hear clearly, in the dense silence of the room, only Clarke’s soft cries of pleasure. Her slightly high pitched sounds drive her completely insane and a loud sob crashes against Clarke’s skin after a particularly hoarse whimper of the blonde.

Clarke is not a simple dancer, she’s _music_.

She’s a soft melody echoing in her hears, a rhythmic warm flow of notes that makes her heart drum in her chest and her head spin almost too fast.

Clarke takes her face between her hands, urging Lexa to look at her, when she hears the brunette sobbing again. Lexa gazes at her with half hooded eyes, inebriated by her pleasure and by the endearing vision of Clarke’s flushed face, eyes glistening with dark lust. Lexa notices after a moment that she stopped moving and manages to inhale some fresh air.

“What’s wrong?” Clarke breathlessly asks, brushing behind Lexa’s  ear a brown strand of dampened hair from her forehead. The brunette lightly shakes her head.

“Nothing… nothing, I’m just… happy. Too happy” Her voice comes out in a hoarse croak, her low undertone glides on Clarke’s spine, making her shudder and Lexa’s arms envelops her an instant later, pushing her impossibly close. The blonde kisses her, hugging her neck and adhering completely against her body.

“Me too”. She murmurs on Lexa’s soft lips, resuming the rolling movement of her hips, helped by the brunette. They muffle cries and groans in the other one’s mouth and Clarke bites her lower lips when Lexa take one of the her breast in her hand, brushing and pressing her thumb on the hardened nipple.

Lexa parts from her lips with a low moan when she feels Clarke’s muscles clenching around her cock and once again she sinks her nose in Clarke’s hair, pressing her mouth on her neck, kissing her skin and groaning against the dampened flesh. Their movements become more erratic, more frantic and Clarke clings on Lexa’s neck when a stab of pure, dense pleasure hits her womb, eliciting a shattered cry on her lips.

“Lexa… I’m..” She breathes, her fingers pressing in Lexa’s skin who keeps guiding her hips, trying to find again a rhythmic pace, sinking completely in her at every push, making her shudder and cry her name again and again while Clarke feels herself clenching impossibly hard around Lexa.

The brunette sharply moans against her ear. “I’m here… I’m here” She groans with her deep melodious tone, broken by her own lust, and when Clarke feels Lexa's voice reverberating in her ear and her shaking hands pressing her even harder on her dick she falls over the edge. She arches her back, squeezing Lexa’s neck in her arms while a black wave of destructive pleasure runs in her body with the strength of a storming sea. She feels Lexa shake under her hold and the brunette’s orgasm follows hers after mere seconds.

Lexa plunges her mouth again in Clarke’s shoulder, suffocating her growl against her skin when her cock painfully throbs, held thigh between Clarke delectable soft, boiling, wet muscles.

They slowly cease to move, coming down by their apexes together and they search the other one’s lips in a searing kiss, dictated by the urge to have that tender connection right in that moment. They look at each other when they part and Clarke’s deep blue irises are so magnetic that Lexa feels the reality around her crumble, sinking in that black ocean made of tenderness and something _clean_ she has never seen before in anyone. She realizes that a tear has felt from one of her eyes only when Clarke frowns, taking her face between her hands.

“Hey, I’m here… I’m here” She murmurs, her lips pressing against Lexa’s forehead. The brunette nods and while another tear leaves her eye Clarke wraps her head in her arms and draws her toward her chest. Lexa rests her face against Clarke’s warm breasts and she follows her push, when the blonde moves to lay Lexa against the mattress before rolling under her. The brunette moves with her, lying down on Clarke’s body, pining her against the mattress with her light weight, her face still pressed against the blonde’s chest and her cock still inside her even if it has softened.

Clarke lulls her, kissing her hair and caressing her head, until her tears stops coming to her eyes and when Lexa tries to move from over her she stops the brunette, holding her tighter. Lexa resolves dropping soft kisses on Clarke’ s skin while the blonde keeps cradling her face with her fingers, she draws a pattern toward Clarke’s lips and she softly kisses her.

“Are you ok?” Clarke asks and Lexa huffs a husky laugh, shaking lightly her head.

“I should be the one to ask you that” She jokes, but when Clarke’s amused grin falters in a serious expression she sighs, nodding slowly to actually answer her question “It’s just that I have never thought that you would accept me and then you were at the apartment and… I still can’t believe that it really happened”

Clarke brushes back Lexa’s hair, trapping them behind her ears, and she nips at her own lower lip, scanning the other girl’s face. She drinks in the way Lexa’s lips stretch in a smile that reminds her of the coffee flavored kisses, mixed with incandescent pleasure, she just tasted.

“Come here” She says, drawing Lexa on her lips by her neck to kiss her again, making their skins sparkle when they perfectly adhere again. She smiles in the kiss when she feels Lexa’s length begin to harden again and a groan crashes against her lips. She raises on leg, hooking Lexa’s hip to hold her close and she curls her foot when a calloused palm runs along her thigh, rubbing her skin in a scorching wave, holding her even closer.

And when Lexa’s lips leave hers, landing on her neck, and music explodes in her mind with the force of a whole orchestrated symphony, she simply closes her eyes, abandoning herself to that erratic, intoxicating _Pas de deux_.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm not an expert in intersex people so I hope no one will find any of what I wrote offensive, if that's the case please feel free to contact me.  
> Also I chose to make Lexa sterile because i felt like it would be slightly more realistic, as far as I know intersex people are not fertile. And above all I'm not endorsing unprotected sex: DON'T DO IT, because this is a fanfiction and no one has diseases, but real life is different.


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I wanted it to have plot, but sin happened  
> (joking there's also plot)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Guyyyys you're amazing and I love you so much!  
> I just wanted to point out that I'm sorry if you don't like Lexa to be unfertile, but I thought it was the best decision. The situation won't change because it would be a big plot hole and as I said in many comments she would have never ever said to Clarke that it was safe doing sex without a condom if it wasn't. The story revolves around Clarke's audition and a pregnant dancer is not a very good dancer.  
> But this won't be the last story with a g!p Lexa, I'm already planning others, so Clexa's babies will happen one day or another! ;)  
> As always if you spot any mistake tell me, please!  
> Enjoy <3

### Chapter 6

 

 

Clarke’s pillow smells of some sort of sweet essence which Lexa can’t identify; It’s delicate and dances around her nostrils with the tenuous, evanescent elegance that usually lingers around Clarke. It reminds her of trim, neat gardens she sees on television when the news talks about suburbs or refined houses or the ones she glimpses when she takes the train to go in another side of Polis for some job.

Lexa plunges her nose again in Clarke’s hair, deeply inhaling the fragrance from the direct source; It’s probably her shampoo, mixed with the scent of dampened skin and sex and the cocktail of their warm bodies pressed together. She hears Clarke chuckling and her lips find the blonde’s cheek to kiss her briefly, her arms hugging the blonde tighter against her chest.

“What?” Lexa asks, nuzzling the curve of Clarke’s neck, taking another breath of her perfume that cradles her brain in a fainting caress. The blonde sinks further in her embrace, interlacing the fingers of one hand with Lexa’s.

“You’re literally _sniffing_ me, do I smell?” Clarke playfully jokes, caressing Lexa’s leg with her ankle in a soft graze, their legs woven under the covers. The brunette hums against the tender flesh of her neck, kissing her briefly and making Clarke squirm under the ticklish sensation of her breath crashing against her.

“Quite the contrary… I like your perfume”

“Thank you” The blonde answers, closing her eyes to enjoy the light brushes of Lexa’s lips on her shoulder, before, between her shoulder blades, then. The brunette murmurs something against her creamy skin that Clarke can’t register, but she doesn’t complain, softly sighing in delight under Lexa’s attentions.

“Can I ask you something?” Clarke speaks again after few moments of silence and Lexa props herself against the bed with her elbow, the other hand wandering on Clarke’s stomach in the softest touch.

“Sure”

“If you consider yourself a woman why don’t you… I’m not saying that I want you to change, but..” Clarke rambles, faltering a bit on her own words and Lexa doesn’t interrupt her. The blonde stops and clears her voice before trying once again to express a proper sentence “I mean, why don’t you have an operation to change sex?”

Lexa huffs a bitter laugh, softened and slightly amused by Clarke’s clumsiness “Because we can’t afford it” She simply answers.

“Oh… I see” Clarke mutters, dropping the topic. Lexa answered with such placid resignation that she doesn’t feel the need to ask further details, she takes Lexa’s hand in her own, squeezing it gently. The brunette kisses her cheek and they fall back into a comfortable silence, interrupted only by she soft sounds of Lexa’s lips against her jaw line.

They’ve lost the sense of time, the warm embrace of the covers keeping them in the reassuring refuge created by their lovemaking, away from every problem, every difference, every discontentment regarding their relationship. The only signal telling them that the day is passing comes from the window, reflecting their entwined figures on the bed in the cold black of the evening.

Clarke turns her head when she notices Lexa’s eyes palely sketched in the glass and she searches her lips to kiss her, her own hand finding the sharp outline of the brunette’s jaw in a stroke.

Lexa takes her lower lip between her own after a moment, sucking gently on the swollen flesh before parting with a low sigh.

“I should go, before your mom comes home and Octavia calls the police saying I’m missing”

Clarke chuckles and rolling over in Lexa’s arms she faces the girl. The brunette grins as soon as their eyes meet, encircling Clarke’s thin waist with her hand.

“I can’t disagree about Octavia, but about my mom? She can say whatever she wants about you and I simply wouldn’t care”

“So she wouldn’t approve” Lexa frowns and Clarke just shrugs, taking Lexa’s face between her hands.

“I don’t know and I don’t even care to be honest” She says, silencing the brunette with a kiss when Lexa tries to retort something. She answers the kiss gently, melting against Clarke’s warmth in the fiendish inability to resist the soft aroma of those lips.

“You really have nothing to worry about” Clarke concludes when they part. Lexa nods once with a light snort of surrender, leaving another chaste kiss on Clarke’s lips before parting from her with a sigh.

She sits on the bed, sliding toward the edge to lay her feet on the floor. Clarke follows her movement, observing chocolate locks falling to one side when Lexa bends to recover her boxers and wear them, still sitting. The blonde tilts her head, raising one hand to trace the tattoos on Lexa’s back which she hadn’t noticed until that moment. Lexa slightly flinches under the unexpected touch, but she relaxes after a moment when Clarke’s fingertips leave the dark inked circles drawn along her spine to outline the infinity symbol on her nape.

“They’re really cool” Clarke says, getting closer to Lexa to kiss her shoulder, she hears a smile in the brunette’s voice when she answers.

“Thank you, they all have a meaning, but it’s a story for another time”

“You’re taking that there will be another time for granted” Clarke jokes and when Lexa looks at her from over her shoulder, with a knowingly smirk, the blonde raises one eyebrow, halting Lexa with a index pressed on her already parted lips “Don’t ruin everything with saying whatever I think you’re about to say”

Lexa stifles a chuckle against Clarke’s finger tip and shrugs “I was about to say that you’ll never know the story, then”

“Idiot”

Lexa laughs again and she welcomes Clarke’s kiss on her cheek before standing from the bed, she recollects her clothes slipping in them in silence. She grins at Clarke when she catches the blonde looking at her and Clarke feels her cheekbones warming under the unconsciously intense gaze of the brunette. She moves, mimicking Lexa and getting dressed as well, considering if the brunette has ever contemplated how much ascendant she has on other people.

With her relaxed attitude and her limber bearing accompanied by a plain face, mere walls which crumbled under Clarke’s kisses and fingers, showing a tender, scratched soul like Clarke’s own. Lexa is able to put anyone at ease or to impose herself with just a sentence or a meaningful look and the blonde can’t help to gravitate around her suggestive personality as anybody else.

She looks the brunette hiding again under layers of oversized clothes and she shakes lightly her head to focus again on her purpose and wear the sweatpants still in her hands. The sound of a lock being opened startles her and she looks at Lexa at once.

“My mom…” She says and after a nod, with wide eyes, from the brunette, they both hurry to get presentable before the heavy entrance door of the apartment meets again the frame with a dull sound.

“Clarke?” Abby’s voice comes a little muffled by Clarke’s room door.

“Hi mom” The blonde answers and, smoothing her sweatshirt to eliminate possible traces of its extended stay on the lightly dusted floor of her room, she checks if Lexa is dressed as well. They hear Abby stepping around the apartment and Clarke resolves opening the door and walk toward the living room to greet her mother, followed by Lexa that almost trots behind her; Her bouncing, relaxed walk momentarily forgotten.

Abby looks at them as soon as they appear in her visual range and the woman blinks, slightly surprised, when she sees Lexa stopping beside her daughter “Oh… Hi. Lexa am I right?”

“Yes” The brunette steps forward, stretching her hand for Abby to shake while Clarke peeks at her. The blonde hugs herself, crossing her arms over her chest, when her mom takes Lexa’s hand, shaking it briefly “Nice to meet you Mrs. Griffin”

“Nice to meet you too, and call me Abby please…” Abby halts her sentence midway, glancing at Clarke with a guilty look. Her brown eyes linger on her daughter’s face for a moment while she lets go Lexa’s hand, not saying anything about the fact that she’s not Mrs Griffin anymore, but she can read in the blonde’s scowl that they’ve thought the same thing.

Lexa steps aside and looks again at Clarke “I should really go” She uneasily says, popping the dense icy bubble grown around the two women. The blonde’s eyes flutter towards Lexa and Clarke nods before approaching without a word the main door.

Lexa gives Abby a smile out of courtesy “Goodbye Abby”

“Bye Lexa”

Abby kindly answers, following the tall girl with her eyes while she follows her daughter. The brunette puts on her heavy jacket and they both disappear behind the reinforced door which Clarke leaves ajar behind her back.

“Be careful” Clarke says, hugging Lexa’s waist and tilting her head backward, waiting for a kiss that comes few moments later, given by lips bent in a grin.

“I’ll be safe” Lexa murmurs, kissing Clarke again before parting. They smile at each other slowly loosening the hug and Clarke waves her hand when the brunette starts padding toward the stairs, walking backward to look at her as long as she can.

“Oh and Lexa…” Clarke says, second guessing their goodbye, her hand already on the doorknob and the brunette already on the third step of the stairs. Lexa turns on her feet and frowns, looking at her, holding onto the railing with her palm.

Clarke smiles at her, brushing a strand of pale blonde hair behind her ear, uncovering her slightly blushed cheekbone “You need no operations” She simply says, batting her eyelids toward Lexa that huffs a laugh, averting her eyes for a moment.

When she gazes at Clarke again the primitive intensity of a wild forest is alive in the jade shades of her eyes and her lopsided grin is impossibly appetizing

And in the “Thank you” she gravelly mutters, Clarke hears the departure of a whole new Suite.

 

 

 

She avoids her mom when she goes back in her home, closing the main door with an uncaring wave of her hand. Abby asks her something about Lexa that Clarke barely hears, answering that she’s a friend and Octavia’s sister before hiding in the warm safety of her room.

Her heart still drumming in her chest, propelled by the cadence of Lexa’s natural rhythm and by the entirely, electrified, new pulse they discovered in the past hours. The blonde deeply inhales, the ghost of Lexa’s scent still floating in the air; the rich, earthy smell of grass mixed with the bittersweet scent of sex. It’s barely present in the room, but is engraved with fire on Clarke’s skin, in her nostrils, in her brain which still baths in the vivid memory of Lexa’s skin pressing against her own, painfully sweet and warm and smooth and tan.

The blonde pads toward her closet, opening one of the wood doors and rummaging between her clothes to reach the deepest part of the furniture. She drags out an old paper box, busted and with eroded corners and she sits on her bed, laying the box on the covers to open it. She runs her fingers on the ruined cloth of one pink ballet shoe before pulling it out of the box.

Clarke turns it in her hands, the long bands tangling in her fingers while her mind fills with blurred memories of recitals and training. She wears it, after a moment of linger, and when the straps are steadily tied around her ankle she does the same with the other shoe.

She stands from the bed and pushes it away from the middle of the room, making more space for her to move. She steps around, stretching her legs and bending her ankles to readjust her fingers to the trapping sensation of the reinforced tips of the shoes.

She stands on her toes after a moment, the world becoming almost smaller, around her, seen by the added high. It’s familiar, it’s welcoming, it’s what she wants to see for the rest of her life.

She wanders around the room, pirouetting and performing the simplest ballet moves she knows, guided by the imaginary music playing in her mind and hold by the ghost of Lexa’s hands around her hips, around her waist; They lift her in the air and she makes a small jump, following the imaginary grip.

She lands on her tips and with a last rotation she rests, her body still stiff, in the fifth position. She meets her reflection in the mirror, on the other side of the room and lowering her arms she smiles.

Lexa is right; _it’s up to her_.

       

 

 

 

Lexa repeatedly presses a button on the stereo, turning up the volume to cover the hammering sound of the pouring rain that has suddenly started falling. Clarke, behind her, closes the window to prevent the water from coming inside the apartment, their secret refuge.

They come closer together, and Lexa shows again to Clarke the last move the blonde was trying to learn; As always she can emulate at once the brunette’s movements, her brain able to remember complicate ballets after seeing them a couple of times, but she lacks the fluidity that guides Lexa’s body, even if she has incredibly improved her slackness in the past weeks.

“What were you saying?” Lexa asks, her hands finding Clarke’s shoulders to show her how they should outline a wave in air during the motion. Clarke relaxes in her hands, letting her control her own movements.

“I called Julliard yesterday, for the audition… It’s in two months”

“Alright… we have time, you’ll be ready”

Lexa smiles at the blonde and Clarke briefly nods, answering her smile with a faltering one. The brunette releases her shoulders and shows her some new steps. She shifts from left to right moving her weight from the heel of one foot to the tip of the other one.

“You have to help me with modern dance and I have to lose weight and exercise… I’m out of shape” Clarke sighs, looking at Lexa’s feet, she tries to imitate her but her ankles still struggle to understand the concept of relaxation. She raises her eyes when she notices that Lexa has moved closer, a smirk decorating her glimmering green eyes.

“If you call this ‘out of shape’…” She says in an amused voice, shaded by a murky, voluptuous undertone that makes Clarke bit the corner of her lip. Lexa’s hands lands on her waist in a soft grip and Clarke shortens further the distance between their bodies while they start waving their hips accordingly.

The blonde wraps Lexa’s neck with one hand, brunette half braided locks tangling up in her slim fingers. She raises her head to kiss Lexa’s chin while her free hand roams along Lexa’s torso, her fingers skimming between Lexa’s breasts and stopping when they brushes the belt holding her pants. She tilts her head backward with an impish grin when the brunette tries to kiss her, green eyes already dark as the sea during a storm.

Lexa clenches her jaw, grinding her teeth in a playful snarl and her hands slides on the blonde hips when Clarke slowly spins on her feet. Clarke starts moving again, her hips sinuously shifting from left to right in a mesmerizing fluid wave that she perfectly learned, after days of practice, and Lexa bends slightly her back rearward to look at the blonde’s backside perfectly gloved by her jersey pants.

She straightens again when Clarke presses her back against her chest and Lexa’s fingers tightens a bit around her hipbones, keeping her close while they dance together. A hitch breath crashes against her ear when Clarke knowingly arches her back and, slightly bending her knees, she pushes her backside against Lexa’s crotch. One of her hands finds again a hold around Lexa’s neck and she draws the girl even closer while she repeats the movement, grinding against her slower and with more pressure.

Long fingers brush away from her shoulder blonde locks and Lexa’s plump lips trace the line of her cheekbone in a soft kiss, outlining her jaw toward her neck in a smoldering path. Lexa’s hand caresses her other shoulder, gliding lower, and her knuckles brush the curve of Clarke’s breast before she rests her palm against her taut stomach.

“Am I doing it right?” Clarke’s words are enacted by another roll of her hips and she shamelessly smirks, capturing between her teeth one corner of her lip, when she feels Lexa getting hard with another sharp intake of breath.

“Very… very right” Lexa answers playfully in her ear, but her voice is dangerously hoarse and indecently charming in its low tone. Clarke scrapes her nape with her nails when Lexa takes control of their performance, pressing against her back to make her arch in fluid waves, undulating her torso, instead of just moving from left to right.

The music slowly fades in the next tune and Clarke follows the first beat of the new song to turn around and crash their lips together, clutching the collar of Lexa’s hoodie to pull her closer. She feels Lexa trying to be gentle in her fervent eagerness and the sweetness of her care, combined with her predatory passion, drives Clarke insane.

The brunette plunges her hands in Clarke’s hair, brushing her temples with her thumbs and the blonde traces the slender figure of Lexa’s body, hidden by her oversized sweatshirt. She gropes her toned butt when she reaches it, moving few strides backward to reach the couch behind her, nipping Lexa’s lower lip.

The brunette follows her with a hiss dying on her tongue and, when Clarke stops in front of the sofa and forces her to sit on the leather cushion, she complies without any hesitation. She expects Clarke to follow her and she tries to accompany the blonde on the sofa with a gentle grip on her thighs, but Clarke takes her wrists, pushing them away. Lexa searches Clarke’s eyes and the blonde sees a wolfish nature , pooling in the black of her dilated pupils, hidden behind her tender adoration. She strokes the brunette’s cheek with a brush of her knuckles before taking a short step backward, she discards her shoes, pushing with the toe of one foot on the heel of the opposite shoe.

The music engulfs her with a dissolute, sensual embrace and Clarke abandons herself to the slow beat, closing her eyes and biting her lower lip, feeling Lexa’s burning gaze on her. The brunette swallows hard, clenching her chiseled jaw, and she rests her elbows on her long legs to enjoy every movement of the slim body in front of her.

Lexa has to recall all her strength to not extends her hands out and grab whatever spot of round flesh she can reach. She’s totally in awe, enthralled and over excited by Clarke’s little show.

For her, she thinks in a ravenous flash of possessiveness that slashes her chest in a jolt.

Clarke is doing this _for her_.

She feels her cock painfully hard, trapped in her boxers and she bites back the grunt coming to her lips pressing her mouth against her clenched fist. She observes Clarke pulling the hems of her sweatshirt along her torso, taking it off too, too slowly. The jumper lands on the floor and Clarke’s hand runs through her hair, sweeping back blonde locks, away from her eyes, and Lexa devours her in a ravenous gaze, feverish eyes bouncing around her body.

She’s too much.

She’s too much in her simple sensuality, in her slim, slender figure molded by years of dancing. She’s too much in the way she reopens her eyes, looking at her with a cobalt blue complicity that makes her groins clench with a piercing spasm. Clarke smiles, flattered by the utter rapture she sees mirrored in dark green irises.

Her thumbs hooks the hem of her pants and start pushing them toward her ankles. Every beat of the music elicits a movement of Clarke’s hips and every wave of Clarke’s hips elicits a push on her pants. She kicks them away when they glide along her calves to the floor.

She steps again closer to Lexa, almost pressing her navel against her nose and the brunette doesn’t waste anytime, palming the back of her thigh while she presses febrile kisses on her belly. Lexa’s fingertips slide under her slips, tasting the firm curve of her ass and Clarke runs her hand in brown locks, pulling lightly on them to forces Lexa to look at her, she bends to kiss her, pushing on her shoulder with her free hand to make her relax against the seatback.

Lexa is expecting the blonde to follow her on the sofa and she mutters her disappointment when she loses the feeling of Clarke’s skin under her hands and the flavor of her lips on her own. She opens her eyes that widen and darken when they find Clarke kneeling in front of her, small delicate hands running to her belt to open it.

She swallows hard when Clarke succeed in her attempt and lowers the zip as well. Lexa covers her hands, breathlessly searching Clarke’s gaze; the blonde looks at her questioningly.

“You don’t have to… I mean…It’s not necessary” She reassures Clarke in a raspy voice and the blonde smiles, almost amused by her worry.

“I perfectly know Lexa… If you don’t want I’ll just stop” Clarke answers with a soft smile and the brunette can’t breathe for a second, unable to answer, the image she pictured in her mind weeks earlier, while she was showering, torments and ignites her at once.

“No one ever…” Lexa clears her voice, letting the words linger in the silence, and Clarke urges her to bend toward her, pulling once again the brunette closer by the collar of her sweatshirt, after mere seconds. She kisses her, sweetly sweeping away the turmoil she has seen bathing in her eyes.

The blonde pushes Lexa again to rest her back on the sofa with a tender smile and glistening eyes and the brunette lets her hands go, laying her head on the seatback, reassured by Clarke’s honest desire. She closes her eyes, raising her hips to let Clarke push lower her pants and her boxers and a sharp breath escapes her lips when her cock is finally free from every restraint.

She bites the inside of her cheek when Clarke’s palm envelops the base in a gentle grip and she can’t halt the low groan escaping from the back of her throat when the blonde’s soft lips delicately kiss the tip. Clarke’s scorching tongue runs over the head after a moment and Lexa moans again, trying to keep breathing somehow. Clarke repeats the slow gesture, sweeping away the few drops of moisture before taking the head between her lips, enveloping it and sucking tentatively.

Lexa abruptly reopens her eyes, looking at the ceiling and seeing only flashes of light exploding in front of her eyes, while the softness of Clarke’s tongue runs again over the head, trapped in her mouth, encircling it and making Lexa’s heart blast in her throat.

Lexa dives her hand in Clarke’s hair, impelled by the need to touch her, her fingers caressing the back of her head, accompanying her movement without pushing when Clarke takes more of her erection in her mouth. Another groan cuts the air and Clarke starts moving, slowly, taking as much of her as she can, her tongue scorching hot against the sensible skin. Her soft hand starts to stroke Lexa’s cock in time with her mouth and the brunette bites her lower lip, her free hand gripping the leather armrest of the sofa.

The music surrounding them, guiding Clarke’s movement and Lexa’s sounds of pleasure every time Clarke sucks or runs her tongue along her cock.

Lexa looks at Clarke and the vision of the blonde, half naked, taking her between her lips with the fervid desire to make her feel not only mere pleasure, but also her complete acceptance is something that simply outmatches her darkest dreams. She feels the consuming, biting ache of pleasure gripping her lower abdomen, expanding in her body through her blood, like ink in a pond of water, pounding in her veins so vehemently that she hears the echo of every blast resounding in her ears. She desperately tries not to jerk her hips, letting Clarke have total control over her.

“Clarke.. I’m going to…” She warns her in a dark undertone, pulling gently on her hair to make clear what she’s trying to say. The blonde stops just for a second, taking a breath before enveloping again her cock with her lips, moving even faster, making Lexa grumble her pleasure louder with hoarse whimpers, broken by the lack of hair in her lungs.     

And then Clarke does it.

She opens her eyes, looking at Lexa through her eyelashes with her unbearable burning gaze and Lexa collapses in a deep ocean of blue irises and devastating ecstasy and _Clarke_ and it destroys her, hammering the edges of her soul, making her hoarsely exhale and inhale Clarke’s name. She tries to pull again Clarke away, but the blonde grasps her forearm, stroking it to reassure her. Lexa’s cock throbs while the girl comes in Clarke’s mouth and the brunette chokes a groan, shuddering, when Clarke keeps looking at her, swallowing.

She strokes Clarke’s cheek with a trembling hand before abandoning herself against the seatback, trying to regulate her erratic breathing and the tumultuous beat of her heart. Clarke leans in the caress and Lexa close her eyes for few moments, barely sufficient to regain some sort of control. She cradles Clarke’s face in both her hands, while the blonde sucks on her lower lip, and she bends toward her to kiss her tenderly, making her stand from her knees to sit on the couch. She makes Clarke’s legs rest on her own thighs and she caresses her knees, easing the light soreness, while her other hand keeps the blonde close to her by her back.

Clarke smiles in the kiss at the gesture and she hugs Lexa’s neck, relaxing in her arms when Lexa starts pushing with her body to lay her on the couch

“ _Sei_ …” A kiss on her cheek “ _Perfetta_ ” another one on her chin “ _You’re_ ” a light bite on her neck “ _Perfect_ ” an ardent brush of her tongue under her ear. Clarke shivers while her smile widens, summoned by Lexa’s tenderness and by the tantalizing softness of that melodic language she occasionally speaks.

The brunette stretches upon her body, finding space between her legs and Clarke searches again her lips, while she helps Lexa to get rid of her pants and her boxers in one hindered push.

Clarke takes off her sweatshirt in another movement and Lexa raises on her knees to discard also her bra, tossing it on the floor behind the couch.

She lowers her mouth on Clarke’s, kissing her softly and nibbling her lips, playfully, before brushing her mouth on her cheek, enlacing it on sweet spots of her neck, sucking the light skin and eliciting soft sounds from Clarke.

She paints her collarbone with invisible marks while Clarke arches her back to allow Lexa’s finger to open the clasps of her bra. Lexa lowers the straps slowly, kissing every inch of skin she encounters in her path toward Clarke breast.

“You’re so soft” Lexa’s accented voice is hoarse and enraptured against her skin and Clarke shivers lightly, plunging her hands in Lexa’s brown curls, keeping the girl close to her, over her. The first layer of her skin literally consumes itself in the impatience of feeling those indecently plump lips and she moans as soon as Lexa closes her mouth around her nipple.

She feels dry palms mold her thighs, her hips, her waist and she arches her back when one of them encircles the other breast. She scrapes her nails on the back of Lexa’s head while the girl keeps kissing, biting, sucking, making her moan and squirm under the growing desire, the undeniable need to have _more_.

“Lex-a”

She softly calls her name in a raspy murmur that reverberates in the empty room, bouncing against the uncovered damp walls. And Lexa complies, fulfilling her plea and drawing a line of voracious, maddening aflame kisses along Clarke’s stomach, halting only to press a wet kiss on the inside of her thigh.

She opens her eyes, looking at Clarke with hunger while the blonde keeps her eyes shut, her head tilted backward, sunk in the battered leather of the cushion.

“Lexa..” She groans again when a fervent tongue runs on her groin, too close and too far from where she wants Lexa to be, from where she oppressively needs her. The brunette’s thumbs hook the hem of Clarke’s slips, pulling them along creamy thin legs, tossing them on the floor. She softly captures one of Clarke’s feet, kissing the inside of her slim ankle, kissing her leg, her thigh in a slow relentless way toward her core.

Clarke’s hands grasps her head as soon as she’s able to reach her, drawing Lexa against her and the brunette huffs a laugh at her impatience, grazing with her teeth the soft skin in the inside of her thigh.

“Someone is impatient”

Clarke’s brain barely registers the low growl against her skin. Lexa’s low voice, her musical timbre, the scratching undertone she uses to drive her insane vibrates against her flesh, engraving it, burning it in a warm breath. She doesn’t even tries to answer, but Lexa doesn’t let her wait much longer.

She embraces the cool tongue running on her core with a whimper, her fingers scratching the back of Lexa’s head, urging her to continue, to be anywhere and everywhere, on her, _in_ her. Lexa licks along her folds, guided by Clarke’s moans and the blonde arches her feet when the brunette brings her legs over her shoulders to gain more space on the rough surface of the couch.

The brunette takes her time, tasting her, plunging her tongue inside, and Clarke moans her name higher, pushing on her head, trying to make her move faster, squirming and shuddering under the burning cold sensation.

Lexa halts her wander to meticulously relish Clarke’s bud, gliding her tongue over it, around it. Slow, fast, following the rhythm of the music, still engulfing the room, or breaking it. Making Clarke call her name in harsh moans of pleasure or in soft pleas of agony while she trembles under her roaming hands, which caress her hips, squeeze her breasts. Clarke’s hips start to follow Lexa’s mouth, canting and jerking along with the frantic clenching and unclenching of her lower abdomen. Lexa stops her movements, a hand softly brushing the taut skin on her stomach, guiding her hips in the right pace of raising and relaxing back and the blonde abandons herself at her steering, while her body starts to stiffen, paralyzed by the freezing, plaguing delight of her incoming orgasm. She pulls Lexa’s hair, entangled between her fingers, and when the brunette keeps eating her with even more rapture a ruinous strike of bittersweet pain pierces her. She reaches her apex, arching her back and pressing the tip of her toes in Lexa’s back, the brunette murmuring something against her wet flesh when Clarke’s fingers pull again her locks.

Lexa keeps brushing her tongue through her boiling core, helping her coming down from her climax and only when Clarke manages to breathe again she outlines her whole body with sweet kisses. The blonde draws her against her body, hands on her neck, when Lexa has barely reached her sternum, and she kisses her, tasting herself on Lexa’s plump lips with a sigh. They slowly kiss while Clarke’s heart calms its drumming beat. She wraps herself around Lexa, her arms around the brunette’s neck and her muscular back, her legs curled around her hip and her thigh, holding the girl against her to enjoy her weight keeping her safely trapped under her body.

When they part Lexa’s lips stretch in her lopsided grin and Clarke gazes her green, deep eyes glimmering with lust and affection.

“I’ll never be ready in two months if we keep doing like this”

“You started it, Clarke”

The blonde opens her mouth in an indignant expression “ _Excuse me_ miss ‘I have erections while I’m dancing’ ?” She mocks the brunette that shakes lightly her head.

“Yea, and you were just dancing innocently, right?”

“Exactly”

Lexa snaps her tongue at Clarke’s seriousness before kissing her flushed, burning, cheek with a smile on her lips “Well then I’m really not sorry if my body thinks that you’re quite irresistible”

Clarke smiles too, her fingertips casually brushing Lexa’s spine; whenever she unconsciously crosses a spot of inked skin the brunette feels goose bump following the caress.

“And your brain? Does it thinks that too?” The blonde asks playfully, turning her head to meet Lexa’s gaze. Her emerald eyes dance across her lineaments, focusing on her lips for a moment before sinking again in shades of exotic seas and skies she’ll probably never see anywhere else.

“Maybe”

Clarke chuckles, totally unable to hold her offended expression “Wrong answer! _Wrong answer!_ ” She hits Lexa on one shoulder, halting her caresses along her back, and the brunette exaggerates a cry of pain.

“That’s it, I’ll never be able to move that shoulder”

“You deserve it, you ass… now move, go away!” Clarke tries to free herself from Lexa’s hold, pushing onto her shoulders, but the brunette fights with equal strength, not moving an inch away from her comfortable position. Instead she plunges her nose in Clarke’s neck, kissing her on her pulsing point. She smirks when she feels under her lips Clarke’s beat accelerating.

“I was joking” She reassures her and Clarke snorts, surrendering at the evidence that she won’t be able to push Lexa away.

“Sure?”

“Hm-mh” Lexa mutters against creamy skin and after a moment Clarke’s lips are brushing against her ear, eliciting a thrill along the back of her neck.

“Then show me.” 

    

 

  

Walking down the school’s hallway Clarke can’t avoid to let her gaze wander around. She has noticed that, as days have passed, always less eyes focus on her at her passage. She doesn’t know if the credit of this achievement is to be given to the fact that the majority of the school has seen her with Octavia and Lexa or to the evidence that she’s not a new arrival anymore. Whatever is the reason Clarke can’t help but feel relieved to be able to walk in the school without being constantly checked, even if Octavia seems inclined to replace the students. The brunette doesn’t stop glancing at her every two steps and Clarke suddenly slows her stride to look at her friend with a raised eyebrow.

“Octavia why are you looking at me every five seconds?”

Octavia readjusts the strap of her backpack on her shoulder and she stares at Clarke with an inquiring shine ominously glimmering in the corner of her eyes “You and my sister… Is everything ok between you two? Few days ago Lexa seemed quite upset”

“All good, we had a…” Clarke searches for the right term in her mind vocabulary “Misunderstanding, but is all ok now”

Octavia nods slowly, chewing on her lower lip, she frowns briefly as if she’s not sure how to express what’s simmering in her brain “So you do know that she has..”

“A penis? Yes.”

Clarke blunt answer interrupts Octavia mid sentence and the brunette blinks several times, surprised by the blonde’s frankness, but also reassured by the fact that Clarke is not only aware about her sister, but also totally unperturbed.

“Oh.. alright. So you two…?”

“We, what?” Clarke smirks, amused, and she averts her eyes from Octavia who seems torn between insatiable curiosity and reasonable embarrassment.

“You two-” The brunette tries to ask again before shrugging, her head shaking lightly “Actually, I don’t wanna know”

Clarke chuckles beside her and opens her shoulder bag to search her math book, along with her notebook, to have them ready for the upcoming lesson. Octavia beside her snorts a laugh and Clarke glances at her before following the direction in which the brunette’s looking.

“Speak of the devil” She comments, while she smiles to her sister and waves one hand as a greeting. Lexa is walking toward them, hands in the pockets of the red pair of pants Clarke remembers from the club night. Her boots rubbing the floor in her usual slack cadence, she avoids a group of students rotating her torso, without halting her steps. When she meets Clarke eyes she smiles and Octavia snaps her tongue.

“This is my hint to go, I guess” Clarke looks at her friend when she hears her bitter mocking, but Octavia is smiling “See you later, blondie” She concludes.

“See you later O.” Clarke answers and she looks at her friend while she quickens her pace. Clarke huffs a laugh when Octavia purposefully hits Lexa’s arm with her shoulder and the taller girl mimics the agony of a death blow.

Clarke closes the distance between them and she keeps walking when she’s beside Lexa, glaring at her an unimpressed, yet rather amused, look. Lexa rapidly drops her act to follow her, walking beside her.

“You don’t even greet me?” She asks, pretending to be hurt by Clarke’s attitude, the blonde doesn’t even deem her worthy of a glance and she holds her eyes focused straight in front of her

“Hi, Lex” She answers, amused. Lexa just plays along.

“Hi Clarke… Don’t I get a kiss?”

Clarke turns on her feet, padding backward while they approach the corner of the hallway that leads to the class she needs to reach. She smirks at the brunette who slows her walk, but doesn’t stop until Clarke ends with her back pressed against the wall.

The blonde, pretending to not have planned it, embraces her books, holding them tighter against her chest as some sort of protection from Lexa.

“Do you think you deserve it?” Clarke asks tilting her head and Lexa slightly bends toward her, one of her palms finds the wall beside Clarke’s head and she leans against it.

“I really think I do” Lexa’s voice drops an octave lower and, suddenly, everything around them disappears in a blurry bubble of unfocused people and sounds. Clarke glances at the brunette’s lips, her brain trying to process an explanation to the impact that Lexa’s grave melody has on her capacity to engage with reality. She stares back at stormy green eyes, from under her eyelashes, and when she sees the smirk bending those full, plump lips she raises her chin, trying to regain a proud stance.

“In that case…” She mutters unable to prevent her eyes from falling again on Lexa’s lips while the brunette bends further to finally kiss her; it’s slow and appealingly tart like homemade lemon marmalade. They enjoy the brief moment, isolated from the sight of other students by their walls of indifference and Clarke breaks the contact heaving a sigh.

“I have to go… I have dance lesson this afternoon, till 6.30, but we could see each other later”

“Ok, can I come to see you?”

Clarke faintly frowns and she skims Lexa’s flat stomach, her hand sinking in the loose fabric of her jumper “You want to see the lesson?” She asks,  doubtful.

Lexa nods and her lips cracks open in her signature grin “Sure”

Clarke fondly smiles, flattered and astonished by Lexa’s request. She stands on the tip of her toes to kiss tenderly Lexa’s cheekbone, certain that if their lips get in touch again she won’t be able to go to lesson in time “Of course you can” She mutters against her skin.

“Great” Lexa is still grinning and she lowers the hand pressed against the wall, regaining her relaxed straight stance, to free Clarke from her trap “See you later new girl”.

Clarke slips away from the wall “See you later ghetto girl” she answers in a smirk. She pads a couple of step backward before turning on her heel and going in the class at the end of the hallway.

Lexa moves when the blonde disappears from her sight and, with still the ghost of a smile on her lips, she starts walking in the opposite direction.

“Lexa”

Anya’s voice surprises her and she turns her head to her right, searching with her eyes the source of the calling, she smiles when she sees her friend standing with Lincoln and Raven. She crosses the hallway in few steps and she hugs the honey-haired girl tightly. When they part Anya reciprocates her affectionate grin and Lexa greets her other friends as well.

“You’re back!” She says and Anya nods, stroking Lexa’s arms in a last squeeze before letting her go

“You seem surprised… I told you yesterday” Anya mocks her with a hint of resentment in her voice and Lexa shoots her a guilty smile, shaking her head

“You’re right, I wasn’t even thinking”

“I’m not surprised, you’re always with _Clarke_ ” Lexa frowns at the bitter remark and she looks questioningly at Anya’s icy brown eyes, Raven prevents her from answering.

“So is it true?”

Lexa focuses her attention on the brunette, her jaw slightly clenched “Is its true, what, Raven?”

“Che ti sbatti la bianca.” Raven answers raising her chin to mimic Lexa’s intimidating stance, the taller girl narrows her eyes.   / _That you bang the white chick_ /

“Non sono affari tuoi e penso tu possa riferirti a lei con un minimo di rispetto, Raven” Lexa answers lowering her voice in a gravelly snarl, but her friend smirks. / _This is not your business and I think you should talk about her with a little respect, Raven_ /

“Sono affari miei visto che ti sei rammollita” She answers, roaring the words with gritted teeth, and she waves her head toward Anya that has her arms crossed over her chest “Abbiamo scoperto chi ha picchiato Anya e ci stiamo preparando per dargli una lezione, sei con noi?” / _This is my business, given that you softened – We found who beat Anya and we’re getting ready to give them a lesson, are you with us?/_

Lexa shakes her head, a disgusted grimace painting her face “No e non dovreste farlo nemmeno voi, è una cazzata Raven, dovete stare fuori da questa merda” / _No and you shouldn’t do that either, it’s bullshit Raven, you should stay out of this shit_ /

Raven snorts a nauseated sound of anger and she steps closer to Lexa, looking her in her green eyes, darkened by the turmoil dancing in them.

“See you’ve become a pussy”

Lincoln intervenes, coming between the two girls that are few inches apart. She pushes Lexa on her shoulders, knowing that she would be more accommodating that Raven. Lexa moves two steps backward, following the push, before raising her arm to make Lincoln loose the grip on her. The guy lets Lexa go, but he stands in front of her to keep Raven and the other brunette separated.

Lexa looks at her friend with frenzied eyes, a swift glance over Anya who is still beside Raven and then she focuses her wolfish gaze on the brunette “Say what you want Raven, you perfectly know that I’m done with this shit and Clarke has nothing to do with my decision. But you’re still my family so I beg you, don’t do it.”

She spits the words between her teeth and doesn’t even awaits for an answer before spinning on her heels to reach the class, the bell ringing over her head, not loud enough to cover her livid anger. She walks away and she hears Raven muttering something to the other guys.

She closes her eyes for a second, deeply breathing to soothe some of her  painful, destructive turmoil, her jaw clenching and unclenching with no rest.

She feels in her chest the caustic need to just go back and beg Raven to not do anything stupid, even if she’s still fuming for their argument. She keeps walking just glancing a last look at her cousin from over her shoulder.

And she realizes, in a flash, that the hate in Raven’s dark eyes is written in a language she can’t read anymore.

 

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> “Che ti sbatti la bianca.” Sbattere means literally slam/beat and it's really really a rough way to say it in Italian


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I wanted not to write smut in this one, but Tumblr wanted sexa.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry if it took a bit to update, but this chapter is loong :D  
> Thank you as usual for comments and kudos, you're special <3  
> I love reading every one of your opinions!
> 
> Enjoy and sorry for any mistake!

### Chapter 7

 

 _Hold_.

Six, seven, eight.

Clarke counts the music along with the dance teacher. The pain, expanding from her strained leg, throbs through her thigh, making the muscle quiver.

Exhale and turn. Her legs barely holds her weight and she grinds her teeth when clearly feels one of her nails collapsing under the pressure of her whole body held only by her toes.

Inhale, one, two steps, on her left toes.

Five, six, lift the leg and one arm, seven. The music slows, changing it’s tune in a higher pitched one.

And _hold_.

She pants another breath, her sore muscles trying to get accustomed again to the stretching sensation of ballet, to regain their past flexibility and their strength. Clarke can clearly feel the trembling jolts running along her arms, whenever the teacher makes the small group of shapely girls hold a specific position. She can feel the slackness in her shoulders, so ponderously achieved during Lexa’s lessons, being swept away in a painful shudder while she’s forced to maintain the first position for what seems like an eternity.

Clenched buttocks, parted feet, bent knees.

And _hold_.

She feels a drop of sweat run on her temple, abandoning the tightly tied blonde locks to glide along her heated cheekbone. It falls from her jaw, landing somewhere on the flat parquet under her feet, and Clarke closes her eyes for a moment, trying to swallow her thirst and her fatigue and to blow away the ache in a labored breath.

When she reopens her eyes she meets a pair of burning emeralds painted in the wall-wide mirror of the room. They’ re piercing the heated air of the chamber to look straight at her through the glass surface, focused and sated by the enthralling vision they’re shamelessly biting.

A grin appears on Lexa’s lips as soon as she realizes Clarke caught her red handed, but the blonde doesn’t have the chance to appreciate it, following the teacher voice, who commands to the class to perform another move and hold another stance.

The brunette has slipped in the room some time earlier, silently sitting on the floor, against the wall. She hasn’t stop looking at Clarke not even for one second, observing her movements with slightly parted lips and frenzied eyes jumping around her slim body, trying to stare at everything at once. Trying to drink her, to let that creamy, dampened skin placate the dryness of her throat, like the sweet popsicles she used to eat in her childhood summers; When Octavia was always running in tears to their mother because an already lanky Lexa had devoured both their _ghiaccioli_ , giving the younger Woods nothing else than a stick.

Clapping twice her hands the teacher announces the end of the lesson and Clarke relax, slowly dropping the second position she has been stuck in until that moment. She finally takes few seconds to look at Lexa and she doesn’t even try to hold back the smile that enlightens her face. The brunette answers with a playful wink while she stands and Clarke nips at her lower lip, turning on her heels to recover her purple bag and say goodbye to the other dancers and the teacher. She quickly changes her shoes, with a small grimace of pain, and she slips in a pair of blue sweatpants and a grey sweatshirt, before wearing her coat and Lexa’s hat.

When she’s ready Clarke leaves the room, searching with her eyes Lexa, who is waiting for her, leaning against the hallway wall with a foot and her back against the plastered surface. Hands plunged in the pockets of her grey sweatpants, as usual. The blonde approaches her and greets the taller girl with a kiss on her cheek, feeling a smile growing under her lips.

“Hey”

“Hey, you” Lexa answers searching her cobalt irises to look at Clarke for a long second before bending to kiss her, pale hands sinking in her brown curls, covered by a grey beanie, even older than the one she gave to Clarke. She tastes the slightest flavor of salt on Clarke’s lips, dried by the exertion of the ballet class and wrinkled by the cold air of December, a sigh leaves her lips and Clarke presses even further against her.

They smile at each other when they eventually part and Lexa gestures toward Clarke’s bag “Give it to me.” She clears her voice when hears her voice husky.

The blonde is almost amused “It’s not so heavy, I can carry it.”

“I’m sure you can, but you must be tired, c’mon” Lexa waves again her hand and Clarke surrenders after a moment, with a sigh.

“Alright, thank you.” She hands out the bag to the brunette, who takes it, stepping away from the wall with a push of her foot. Lexa hugs the smaller girl’s shoulders with her free arm, pressing the blonde against her warm body and Clarke relaxes in the embrace, enveloping the brunette’s waist with her hand.

They leave the small building, walking with hurried step, in the fierce cold of December, toward the near station to quickly take the train back to their district.

“Did you get bored?” Clarke asks when they finally sit on two of the shabby seats of the passenger car, where they have barely managed to step in while the train was already moving, slipping away from the concrete platform.

Lexa shakes briefly her head, her arm still around Clarke’s shoulders “Bored? With all those pretty girls dancing for me? Not really.” She jokes and Clarke smack her lips, unimpressed.

“I’ll deliberately ignore this statement for your own good”

Lexa chuckles, pressing a kiss against blonde hair and Clarke simply snorts again.

“How are your feet?” The brunette asks, searching for blue eyes when the blonde looks at her with a small grimace on her lips.

“They hurt like hell, I’m sure I have a couple of broken nails…”

A sympathetic gaze paints Lexa’s features “I’m sorry… We’ll check them when we get to your home, okay?”

“Okay”

Clarke tenderly smiles and leans forward to join their lips. They kiss, sloppily, ignoring the sporadic, sharp glares they’re already used to receive every time they’re together. Clarke rests her palm against Lexa’s face, cupping her cheek in a small stroke, sighing softly against full, swollen lips.

Lexa parts from her, frowning briefly, her free hand finding Clarke’s thigh to caress her.

“What?”

“It’s just… I felt so alive Lexa during that lesson I… I forgot how much I loved ballet and, just, thank you for persuading me to dance again,” Clarke smiles, a bright glow warming her eyes for a moment. The brunette answers with her lopsided, disarming, grin and lightly shakes her head.

“Don’t thank me, you just needed someone as stubborn as you”

Clarke huffs a laugh, resting her head against Lexa’s shoulder “Yea..” She murmurs, closing her eyes and heaving a sigh of contentment while she curls up against the brunette. Lexa silently caresses her arm, lulling the blonde in her drowsy relaxation, elicited by sore muscles and the afterglow of endorphins still flowing in her veins. She wakes Clarke up when the train slows, near their stop and they get off the railway car, padding toward Clarke’s house.

The blonde sighs in relief when they eventually hide in the warmth of her apartment, she tries to calls her mother’s name, but no one answers. They leave their coats in the entrance corner and go in Clarke’s room, where Lexa drops the duffel bag on the desk and the blonde falls on her bed, abandoning her sore back against the covers.

“I just want a hot bath… And I don’t even have the strength to go in the bathroom.” She whines and Lexa chuckles, sitting on the mattress beside her.

“Let me check those nails, then I’ll leave you to your bath.”

“You can stay” Clarke instantly says, sitting on the bed to take off her shoes without even untie the shoelaces, she lets slip a small grunt of pain when she removes the right one. She carelessly drops them on the floor “My mom has probably a night shift if she’s not at home by now… but you know you could stay anyway” She adds when she reads Lexa’s question in her eyes.

The brunette nods once with a small, soft smile “Ok,” She just says, kissing Clarke’s cheek who caresses her forearm in a brief stroke.

Lexa then takes one of the blonde’s feet and carefully removes the sock; They both hiss at the same time when they see the thumb’s nail split in half.

“Fuck” Clarke gasps in a short intake of air while Lexa carefully lays the foot on the covers and repeats the same action with the other one. The left foot has no broken nails, but the skin is cracked around some fingers and blood is still slowly spilling.

“Do you have a first aid kit or something like that?” Lexa asks and Clarke nods.

“There’s a medicine chest beside the mirror in the bathroom… but you don’t really have to do it” The blonde answers, stroking again Lexa’s arm with one hand. The brunette shrugs and smiles.

“It’s not a problem, I just want to round the edges of the nail, then after your bath I’ll patch you up” A chuckle leaves her lips and Clarke smiles, thanking her and letting her go when the brunette rests her leg on the bed and stands. Lexa quickly steps in the bathroom, washing her hands and taking the kit before going back in Clarke’s room, the blonde is still sitting on the sheets, her hands leaning against the bed, holding her torso up.

Lexa sits beside her and opens the small tin box, placing it on the covers. She takes the foot with the broken nail and she carefully turns the limp from left to right, analyzing what she can do to limit Clarke’s pain.

“I’ll cut the edges so it won’t rip the skin, ok?” She asks and Clarke nods her approval, sucking in her lower lip when Lexa takes a tiny, sharp-pointed pair of scissors from the box. The brunette crosses her leg and places Clarke’s calf on her knee, telling her to relax her muscles to have a better hold on the blonde’s ankle without hurting her.

Lexa carefully cuts the nail, rounding the broken edges and Clarke hisses in pain, her fingers clasping the covers under her hands, every time the cold, metallic blade touches her sensible skin.

“Here, all done… Sorry if I hurt you.” Lexa says with half a smile on her lips, before putting back the scissors in the box and Clarke shakes her head.

“You didn’t, thank you.” She moves her leg away from Lexa’s lap and she leans toward the brunette to kiss her gently, capturing her lower lip between her own, dampening it with her tongue after a moment. Lexa mumbles a “Prego” against her mouth that she doesn’t quite understand, but she doesn’t investigate, deafened by the husky undertone that crashed against her skin.     / _You’re welcome_ /

“Il go turn on the water… to fill the tub for you” The brunette offers, her eyes fluttering open when they part. Clarke grins, totally pleased by the offer.

“That would be great, thanks”.

Lexa nods and with a last peck of her lips on Clarke’s creamy cheek she stands from the bed and goes in the bathroom, rolling one of her sleeves up. She turns on both taps on the tub, regulating the flow to have the water at the right hot temperature and she checks it with her hand, shaking off the drops of water with a wave of her wrist after few moments. She dries it on her sweatpants in a swept.

“I like it almost boiling” Clarke’s objection comes from behind Lexa’s shoulders and the brunette answers while she turns on her heels.

“You should chec-” Lexa’s voice dies on her tongue, smashed by a sharp intake of breath which almost chokes her. She blinks several times, her dry mouth unable to articulate a single word in any known language, while she looks at Clarke padding toward her. Completely, shamelessly, naked.

“I should…what?” The blonde asks playfully, when she stops in front of Lexa, who’s still motionless in her stiff stance, and she runs her palms over the brunette’s chest, reaching her wide shoulders to grip them. Lexa’s mouth is closed, now, and her jaw keeps clenching and unclenching in an erratic rhythm which follows the feverish movements of her eyes. She wants to look at anything, everything, enjoying every single detail of Clarke’s body. She needs to touch, kiss, _taste_.

She seems to regain control over her own body only once Clarke is pressed against her chest. Lexa can feel the warm, soft, roundness of Clarke’s breasts, through the thick fabric of her jumper, pressing against her sternum and the sharp outline of the blonde’s hipbones slicing her own hips. A rush of lust jolts under the first layer of her skin and long fingers find the small of Clarke’s back in a flash.

“You should check the water” She finish her statement, almost grumbling the words, the rounded ‘r’ jumping against her palate in a growl. Her fingertips glide over the two accentuated dimples on the blonde’s lower back and she pushes Clarke even harder against herself. Clarke smirks, but she can’t hide from Lexa the shiver that slithers along her spine.

“Ok,” She answers before standing on her tiptoes to kiss the brunette on her cheek “Thank you for being so attentive.” Her voice barely masks the smile in her voice and Lexa can’t help but grin.

“You’re very welcome”

Her words are followed by another caress along Clarke’s back and, when the blonde slightly brushes her stomach against Lexa’s, she feels the bulge in her pants growing. She smacks her lips, shaking her head, mimicking a reprimand with a deep blue glare and she parts from the taller girl, swiftly turning toward the tub in a single movement. She bends over the tub, turning off the water, and she plunges her fingertips in the hot, steaming liquid, a small sigh leaving her lips.

“It’s perfect” She purrs and she clearly hears Lexa’s struggle while the brunette tries to gulp the air stuck in her throat. Clarke doesn’t even have the time to straighten her back that Lexa is already pressed against her, her clothes brushing against bare skin in a bittersweet friction that inflames Clarke’s groins at once. Lexa’s lips already tasting the curve of her neck with heated dedication, rough palms tracing her stomach with predatory tenderness.

Clarke’s hand finds the back of Lexa’s head and her fingers sink in brown silken hair “Do you need a bath too?”

She’s alluring, playful, _collusive_.

Lexa huffs a husky laugh to mask the groan that bubbled toward her lips and she answers murmuring her accented words against Clarke’s ear.

“No, but if you want some company…”

“Good, cause I really need someone to help me wash my back”

Lexa smirks, pressing her pleased grin against the soft skin of Clarke’s shoulder. She feels a shiver under her palms, crossing Clarke’s stomach, and she moves her hands on her hips to gently turn the girl. She captures her lips as soon as she catches sight of them, murmuring a shattered answer between feverish kisses.

“Then you’re lucky that I am such a gentlewoman.”

Clarke muffles a laugh against her lips, parting from Lexa, and she pushes her backward, pressing her hands on her chest “We’ll see.” She jokes and with a last, lascivious gaze she turns and steps in the bathtub, sighing a groan of relief when she’s completely immersed in the hot water, her back resting against the polished, white surface.

She glances at Lexa, who’s still standing beside the tub, looking at her with hungry, dilated eyes.

“I think you should take off your clothes, Lex”

The brunette blinks at her words, and she suddenly pulls her sweatshirt over her head with febrile fingers, remaining in her baggy jeans for only a moment; the elastic band of her boxers, appearing from the hem of her pants, makes the blonde shiver for no reason.

Clarke appreciatively gazes at her, when Lexa fumbles with the clasps of her bra, clenching her abdomen in the effort and making the soft outline of her abs more shaped. She laughs when Lexa finally frees herself from the bra with a grumble and proceeds to pull down her pants and her briefs all at once.

She stands, finally naked and Clarke gestures her to come closer, curling her index finger with a wink. The brunette steps in the tub, sitting behind Clarke when the blonde shifts forward to make her space, before relaxing against her chest. Lexa muffles a groan when Clarke’s back presses against her hard cock, but she acts casually, enveloping the blonde’s waist with her arms and planting a kiss in the hollow of her neck when Clarke tilts her head, exposing the wet, tender flesh to her.

“Where’s my massage?” Clarke playfully asks and Lexa suffocates an inquisitive “Uh?” against her neck, keeping to softly graze the skin with her lips.

“You promised me a back massage.” She stops Lexa’s hands, preventing the brunette from running her palms all over her stomach with a hold on her wrists.

“I said I would wash your back, no one mentioned a massage”

“But you’re not doing even that”

Clarke shifts against Lexa, consciously brushing the cock which hardly pressed against her back and eliciting another huffed growl from the brunette.

“Give me the soap” Lexa grumbles in her ear and even that simple sentence sounds impossibly erotic when murmured in her dark undertone. The blonde complies, taking the bottle of shower gel and handing it to Lexa, a smirk bending her lips. The brunette pours some of the dense liquid in her palm and places the bottle of the floor, beside the tub. She rubs her hands together and then starts to soap Clarkes shoulders, moving away her hair and draping them over her shoulder. The blonde sighs, gasping softly when Lexa’s thumbs press delightfully on some strained muscle, rubbing it in small circles. Clarke melts under her hands, and when Lexa lowers her caresses and slackens the muscles between her shoulder blades Clarke can’t contain a moan “Fuck..”

“Later” Lexa amusedly answers in her ear and the blonde breathes a laugh, turning her head to kiss her, biting her lower lip and muttering another groan of pleasure against her mouth when Lexa’s fingers stroke her intercostal muscles.

Clarke takes Lexa’s calloused hands, when they reach her waist, and brings them over her own breasts, another whimper crashing against Lexa’s lips when the brunette envelops them, squeezing with agonizing perfect strength.

“Now” Clarke remarks, parting from the kiss to look at Lexa with gleaming, clouded eyes. Pupils so wide that completely swallows the azure irises. Lexa nods, completely enraptured and, when Clarke turns between her arms to face her, she moves, parting from the edge of the tub behind her. She pushes Clarke, gliding in the fluid along with the blonde, a predatory deepness darkening her gaze; some of the water splashes on the blue tiles of the floor when Clarke crashes against the opposite wall of the tub. Neither of them cares.

Clarke’s hands frantically grasp Lexa’s back, drawing her lower to kiss those immorally full lips, notched by a small wrinkle which drives her insane, she outlines it with her tongue, unable to resist. The brunette kneels between Clarke’s thighs, her hands wrapping Clarke’s waist in a firm grip, and when her erection presses against her soft core the blonde can’t hold back a moan.

Lexa parts from her lips, her brain completely clouded, blackened by the sound, and she sinks her teeth in the hollow of Clarke neck to fight the urge of sinking abruptly in her right in that moment.

“Fuck” Clarke gasps again when the brunette bites her and she impulsively plunges her nails in Lexa’s back who sharply moans, the sound dying against creamy, boiling skin. The brunette continues to kiss Clarke’s neck, sucking and grazing the skin with her teeth, one of her hands finding Clarke’s breast to brush her fingers over her nipple, making Clarke whimper and quiver between her arms.

“Lexa..ah. Inside. I need you _inside._ ”

It’s a plea, or an order, Lexa can’t decide.

She only feels the overwhelming need to give Clarke anything she wants, everything she needs and, lifting Clarke’s hips with her free hand she pushes her cock in her with a delicate, swift push. They both groan at the same time when she’s completely sunk in her, both searching the other one’s lips; their erratic breaths collide when they finally kiss with voracious, messy hunger.

Lexa starts moving, thrusting with excruciating slowness, diving completely in Clarke every time. One of her hands guides Clarke against her, with an hold on the small of her back, the other one clasping the edge of the bathtub to avoid slipping. Clarke’s thighs envelops her hips, forcing her to go even deeper with every push and when the blonde wombs spasms around her she groans, lost in her pleasure.

“ _Dio_ … you… you’re so tight”

Her raspy voice hits Clarke’s ears with the force of an hammer and the blonde cries.

“Ha-rder,” Her nails painfully sink in Lexa’s nape “Harder” She begs again, clinging impossibly tight to Lexa’s, pressing their bodies one against each other. Lexa whimpers at Clarke’s payer and she starts pushing harder and deeper and faster, her hand accompanying the canting of Clarke’s hips. They kiss again, messily clashing their teeth together when they both try to nip at the other one lips to suffocate their sounds.

“Lex… D-Don’t stop. ” Clarke barely recognizes her high pitched voice, shattered by her whimpers and sharp intakes of breath and, in the moment Lexa’s hand abandons her back to rub her clit with her thumb, she feels her muscles painfully clasp Lexa’s cock.

Lexa groans “Come with me...Clarke” She manages to whisper in a harsh pant that cracks her lungs and, after mere seconds, Clarke crumbles between her arms. She arches her back, her thighs crushing Lexa’s hips while she calls her name at the peak of her pleasure, the burning, liquid ecstasy running in her veins, making her shiver. Her abdomen clenches almost painfully around Lexa’s cock and the brunette comes, sinking her mouth in the soft skin under Clarke’s ear to muffle her whimpers, while her hips keep jerking arrhythmically, along with every, delicious, shock.

They slow their movements, coming down from their climaxes together, relaxing in the other one’s arms while their breaths are still shattered and quickened. They softly kiss for a moment, an ironically chaste kiss which tastes like their smiles.

They part after a moment and Clarke’s fingers brushes the signs her nails left on Lexa’s nape and shoulders and she presses her lips together, finding Lexa’s eyes with a guilty gaze.

“Sorry”

Lexa shakes her head “It’s ok… actually more than ok” She answers, amused and with a grin that makes Clarke chuckle. The blonde takes her face between her hands, brushing one thumb on Lexa’s lower lip.

“You’re beautiful.” The blonde mutters and she can’t help a laugh to escape from her lips when she sees Lexa cheek reddening under her palms “Are you really blushing?” She mocks her, giggling again when Lexa grunts, averting her eyes.

“Fuck you, really” The brunette rumbles.

“I’m quite ok now, thank you”

Lexa rolls her eyes and moves away from Clarke to sit again on the floor of the bathtub, Clarke straddles her hips a moment later, sitting on her legs and making her huff once more “You’re clingy.”

“Yes.” The blonde playfully answers.

Another snort, her arms enclosing Clarke’s waist “Aren’t you tired?”

Clarke sighs “A lot actually, I want to just go to bed and sleep forever, but I should really wash my hair before”

Lexa smacks her lips together, pretending to be annoyed “Give me the shampoo…” She grunts and Clarke chuckles, kissing her chin before bending to her side to recover the bottle.                      

 

 

 

The screech of her rubber soles accompanies her halt, barely a second of immobility and she’s in air. Her long limbs stretching in the jump while Lexa throws the black rough ball across the basketball field; It hits the rusty rim of the basket, several meters away from her, and bounces a couple of time on the metallic ring before falling through the hole.

“Dai, cazzo!” She hears Raven shouting beside her, clenching her fist in a gesture of victory and Lexa turns to face her. She raises her hand, waiting for an high five, while she pinches her sweatshirt with her free hand in a smug attitude. Raven hits her hand, hard, and they share a laugh.        / _Fuck yea!_ /

Her cousin hasn’t mentioned again the revenge they’re planning nor nasty things about Clarke and Lexa has decided to mend their friendship as much as possible. She’s still worried that Raven and Anya will do something stupid, involving Lincoln, Bellamy and others in their foolish plan, but she has no intention of being the one to bring the argument up again.

“La famiglia Wood vi sta facendo il culo, gente!” They hear Bellamy yell behind their back, while Lincoln trots to recover the ball and resume the play. Lexa laughs and the tall, dark-haired guy gives a fist bump to both girls. / _The Woods family is kicking your asses, people!_ /

 “Less talking, more playing!” Lincoln shouts, grunting in his baritone voice and, passing the ball to his sister they start playing again.

Lexa sprints forward, reaching Anya that is running toward the basket, skillfully dribbling the ball with her right hand. The brunette interrupts her steps, placing herself between Anya and the near basket. The blonde tries to find a teammate around her, but both Lincoln and Roan are man-marked by Raven and Bellamy. Anya grunts a playful insult toward her friend and tries to dribble Lexa, who understands her movements and hits the ball before it bounces back in Anya’s hand, making it roll outside the field.

Both girls follow the ball with their eyes and, in the moment it touches the wired fence that enclose the basketball court and start rolling backwards, Lexa sees it. A brown Chevrolet, steering toward the court, with a disturbing creek generated by wheels gliding against the scratched asphalt. The passenger window slides down and Lexa’s pupils shrink, tightening under the violent blow of adrenaline which clears her brain at once; Her body shaking, in a primordial reaction in front of danger.

A gun.

“Down! Get down!” Lexa yells, following her first instinct and throwing herself against Anya to throw the girl to the concrete with her. She barely feels the stinging pain in her hip when it crashes against the court, Anya grunting some blasphemies in her ear while her own landing is softened by Lexa’s arms. Gunshots fill their ear.

“Bastardi! Pezzi di merda!”    / _Bastards! Pieces of shit_ /

Raven’s voice, it’s Raven’s voice. Lexa raises her cheek, slightly bruised, from the concrete and she looks around her in a frenetic glare, shoots still reverberating in her ears.

“Raven! Get the fuck down!” She screams when she sees the brunette still on her feet, her back bent while she searches for something in the back of her pants.

“Raven!” Bellamy calls his sister as well, gesturing her to get down with his hand, bullets passing casually around them in unknown directions. Raven, deaf to their callings, recovers a metallic gun and pulls the trigger in an angry whip of her thumb. She starts to answer to the fire.

“Raven! Che cazzo fai!” Lexa let’s Anya go to raise on her knees and close the short distance from Raven in few movements, dragging the girl down by pulling her wrist and preventing her from shooting again. The car already disappeared around a corner.             / _What the fuck are you doing_ /

The brunette fights Lexa’s hold, shooing her hand away from her forearm with an abrupt slap “Let me go Lexa!” She barks, feverishly searching with her eyes the Chevrolet “Those fucking bastards! They’re the ones that beat Anya!” She turns her head to glare an inflamed stare to her cousin, her lips curled in a snare.

“Raven put that fucking thing away” Lexa growls back, grasping the girl’s arms to hold her, trying to bring back some reason in her.

“I said let me fucking go!”

Raven violently shrugs, freeing herself from her cousin’s grip and she angrily puts back the gun in her pants, turning her back to Lexa who drops her arms, looking at Raven with a deep sense of defeat pooling in her eyes. She grinds her teeth, feeling anger coming back in her chest, trying to blur her mind.

Lincoln, Bellamy and Roan approach Raven and Anya stands from the concrete, trying to catch again her breath.

“This is too much… We’ll do it” Anya comments, stepping over Lexa who watches her friends slightly shaking her head.

“You’ll get yourself arrested… or killed” The brunette spits and Raven finally turns on her feet, looking at her again. She raises one hand, stopping Lexa’s speech.

“You’re free to betray us Lexa… But we know what we have to do”

Lexa closes her eyes, her jaw frenetically clenching and relaxing, and she swallows back her words. Her hopes about Raven’s change of mind are completely shattered and the tart aftertaste of defeat is burning her tongue like a bitter drink. She shakes her head, averting her eyes for a second while her friends check if they’re all alright.

She turns on her heels “Do whatever you fucking want then” She growls, walking away without even listening to the answer. Lincoln tries to yell her to stay, but she doesn’t listen to him. She just needs to run away from that court, from what happened and to clear her mind. She keeps to mindlessly walktill she finds herself at the abandoned apartment.

She slips in the house and she closes her eyes, her feet starting to move to non-existent music and her mind filling with the memory she created with Clarke on that wrecked floor. A smile bends her lips when she feels a calming sensation slackening her tensed muscles while she abandons herself to the reassuring feeling that bubbles in her head in a flash.

Is not the apartment, her safe refuge. It’s Clarke.    

 

 

 

“Lexa?”

Green fazed irises move to look at her and Clarke frowns when she sees an opaque patina darkening Lexa’s eyes. The brunette bats her eyelids, becoming aware of the world surrounding her at once. Clarke’s room. Clarke’s getting dressed. Clarke asking her.. something.

“Hm?”

“Is everything alright?” The blonde inquires, stepping closer to her bed, where Lexa is seated on the edge. Clarke crouches in front of her, giving to Lexa’s knees a reassuring squeeze while she searches for her eyes.

Lexa nods briefly with an half smile bending her lips. She didn’t tell Clarke what happened few days earlier, not wanting to make her worried, but the blonde has sensed that something is wrong between Lexa and her friends “I was just lost in my thoughts… Sorry”

“You want to talk about that?” Clarke softly asks, raising on her feet again to sit on one of Lexa’s legs a moment later. Lexa shrugs, her smile growing at Clarke’s gesture, she envelops the blonde’s waist with one arm, the other hand tracing small caresses on Clarke’s thigh.

“It’s just Raven… I’m afraid she’ll do something stupid” She sighs, closing her eyes when Clarke’s fingers dive in her hair, reaching her nape to knead the tensed muscles with a delectable soft pressure.

“Did you two talk about this?”

“She doesn’t listen to me” Lexa reopens her eyes, her grave voice makes Clarke bite the corner of her lower lip in a sad grimace and she tilts her head to one side.

“I know that you want to help her and it’s hard to accept, but sometimes people don’t want to be saved. Just… Don’t get caught in whatever she’s trying to do, please,” The blonde cups Lexa’s cheek with her free palm and the brunette leans in the caress, slackening her shoulders when she realizes that she has been sitting stiff until that moment.

“No, I told them I don’t want to get involved, but I feel so guilty. I’m betraying my own family.”

“No Lexa,” Clarke firmly states, forcing Lexa to look at her with a light pressure on her cheek when the brunette averts her eyes “You tried to help them, I’m more than sure that you tried your best to keep them safe. And even now you still hang out with them because you love every one of your friends and you want to check what they’re doing and if they’re all still safe.”

The brunette can’t stop a bitter laugh to escape from her lips, amused and shocked by how easily Clarke reads through her mind “Yea… you’re right.” She admits, looking with a soft tenderness at the blonde. She leans forward, thanking her in a tender kiss that concludes the discussion.

They part after few moments and Clarke strokes one last time Lexa’s face with a satisfied grin before standing from her leg. She takes a step back.

“So, I was asking you,” The blonde says, spinning on her feet. She does a complete pirouette and lands after a second, her back facing Lexa and her eyes smiling in a sly look at the brunette from over her shoulder “How do I look?”

Lexa laughs, averting her eyes for a moment and shaking her head. When she looks again at Clarke a playful fire is burning in her pupils “You’re perfect.” She answers in her low undertone while she observes the total ghetto style that Clarke has chosen; A red top that barely covers her navel, a black pair of pants which leaves nothing to imagination and a red bandana holding her hair up in a bun.

The blonde faces Lexa again with a content smirk while the taller girl stands from the bed and closes the distance between them, kissing her once again as soon as they’re pressed together. They get lost in the kiss, Lexa’s hands softly brushing Clarke’s neck, her dry palms sending a brief shiver along the blonde’s spine. Clarke tightens the hold on Lexa’s thin waist, dragging her even closer, and they part only when a small sigh escapes from her lips and dies in Lexa’s mouth, intoxicating her.

“We should go now, or..”

“Alright, alright, hold the horses” Clarke mocks the brunette who snorts, rolling her eyes and letting her go. They step out of the room and in their way toward the front door they come across Abby, who is sitting on the blue sofa, watching the squared TV, placed on a small coffee table made of wood. The woman is still in her working clothes, apparently she’s just came back home. She turns her head toward them when she hears their steps and she turns off the device with the remote, she then stands in a swift motion.

“Clarke… You didn’t tell me that Lexa would come” She says tentatively, watching inquiringly both girls. The blonde shrugs, stopping in the middle of the living room with Lexa beside her. The brunette hides her hands in her pockets, clearing her voice and unconsciously assuming a defensive stance, slouching her shoulders.

“She’ll come often, mom. We’re dating.” Clarke bluntly states, looking for a moment at Lexa who is blinking beside her, caught off guard “Actually she’s my girlfriend.” She concludes, azure irises fiercely focusing again on Abby, who is looking at her daughter with parted lips.

Clarke feels Lexa’s hand resting on her back after a moment, in a firm hold, and the gesture gives her the last drop of self-confidence she needs; She raises her chin, daring her mother to remark anything.

“Your… Oh. Ok, that’s ok” Abby answers, slightly stumbling on her own words, as if she’s not sure how to react to the news. Brown eyes flutter toward Lexa who holds the woman’s stare clenching her jaw and straightening her back in a instinctive reaction.

“Let’s go Lexa, it’s getting late” Clarke says after a second, taking Lexa’s hand in her own while she starts padding toward the door.

“Where are you going, Clarke?”

 The blonde doesn’t stop until they reach the coat rack beside the main entrance, Lexa silently following her “To the club, I told you yesterday.”

Abby follows the couple with her eyes, observing them while they wear their coats “Right… Don’t get back too late, okay?”

Clarke doesn’t answer, wearing her gloves while she shrugs. The brunette looks at Abby and shakes lightly her head “We won’t” She reassures the woman. Abby looks at her for a moment, sighing briefly with resignation.

“Thank you” She mutters, before walking away toward her room, leaving the two girls alone. Lexa wears her quilted jacket, a blue scarf around her neck. She gazes at Clarke who is already opening the ironclad door and the brunette follows her, they step rapidly toward the stairs, in complete silence.

Lexa, knowing the reasons of Clarke’s attitude toward her mother, moves closer to the blonde, one of her arms capturing her shoulders in a soft hug.

“So,” She starts with a smirk when the blonde looks at her “Girlfriend?”

A furious blush covers Clarke’s cheeks and the blonde clears her voice “Sorry, I just wanted to..”

“To make your mom angry?”

Clarke abruptly halts her step, turning to her side to face Lexa. She frowns in confusion, lightly shaking her head “No, I didn’t say it just for that-”

“I know… I’m mocking you,” Lexa chuckles making the blonde snort “I’m perfectly fine with the definition.” She adds, per fingertips reaching a strand locks of blonde hair, escaped from the bandana’s hold. Lexa softly plays with it, letting it flow through her fingers and brushing it away from Clarke’s eye.

Clarke closes her mouth when she realizes she still has her lips parted, her brain stops elaborating an explanation and abandons itself in the warm fuzziness generated by Lexa’s statement. She openly smiles “You are..?”

A grin flashes through Lexa dark eyes, before bending her lips in her own intoxicating way “I am.” The brunette bends, pressing her smile on Clarke’s cheek, feeling the cooled skin warming under her touch. A huffed laugh caresses her ear.

“You better.”

 

 

 

The smell of smoke and overheated skins aggravates the already heavy air of the club, making it almost dense and viscous in Clarke’s lungs. She’s still not used to being surrounded by so many unknown people, crushing, pushing her, while they were reaching the above-grounded floor, filled with tables and chatting adolescents; Even being pressed against Lexa’s body hasn’t helped her as much as she would like.

She tries to free her throat with another sip of beer, that Lexa has offered her and she has accepted with a small smile. She feels the pleasant warmth of the brunette’s hand on her thigh and the sharpness of Anya’s glare from the other side of the table, which make her squirm, torn between comfort and discomfort. She bends to drop the bottle on the small, black and ruined table in front of the couch and Lexa turns her head, halting her shallow discussion with Raven to look at her.

“Let’s go to dance” The brunette’s husky voice collides with Clarke’s tympanum and the blonde stiffens for a second at the unexpected sensation.

She turn her head, looking at Lexa for a second, embarrassedly puzzled “There are too many people…” Lexa shakes her head, jumping on her feet with Clarke’s hands held in her owns. She gives a light tug to make Clarke stand.

“C’mon, you have to practice for Julliard” She says with a raised eyebrow, moving few steps backwards, towards the dance floor, when Clarke seems inclined to follow her. The blonde bites the corner of her lip and Lexa stops for a second, closing the distance between them.

“No one will look at you, just me. Promise.” She murmurs with a reassuring undertone that indecently runs along Clarke’s spine. The blonde surrenders to that annoyingly powerful inflection with a small sigh, searching green eyes with her own before nodding once. Lexa grins with satisfaction and, turning on her heels, she grabs again one of Clarke’s hands to drag her onto the dance floor.

The brunette starts to move accordingly to the rhythm as soon as she leaves the last step of the stairs, walking with wide, bouncing movements, in a perfect imitation of the music-video-version of a gangster. Clarke deeply inhales and, after a second, she follows Lexa’s act, stepping beside her and hooking the brunette’s arm with her own. She sensually walks next to Lexa, following her rhythm but exaggerating the swaying of her hips, taking the role of the sensual girl that accompanies Lexa’s interpretation. They both laugh when they look at each other, reaching the center of the dance floor with their play.

Clarke feels a slow, bubbling self-confidence as soon as Lexa turns to start dancing in front of her. She knows the moves now, she knows when Lexa will step closer, making her bend her back rearward and when they’ll do the opposite. She knows when the brunette will grab her waist with a strong, soft grip to make Clarke wave her hips in time with her own. Their bodies pressing one against the other for a moment before parting again. She knows when to roll her shoulders, when to spin around, when to act sensually and when to dance aggressively.

Surrounded by the pounding rhythm of the music and by the rare flashes of colored lights.

Clarke lets her mind go, following the girl in front of her, letting Lexa make her gravitate in her compelling, alluring aura. Her personal force of gravity, generated by her parted full lips, by her hair brushing her shoulders, by her green eyes that never cease to wolfishly look at Clarke, through the dimness, as if they shine of their own light.

Lexa friends join them, one after the other and Clarke soon finds herself parted from Lexa by Lincoln that playfully grabs her to dance. The blonde lets him do, dancing with him after a last smile thrown at Lexa; The tough, muscular guy is the most friendly toward her and Clarke laughs, dancing innocently with him.

When her eyes find again Lexa her movements unconsciously slow. The brunette is dancing with Anya, the two girls pressing their bodies together in a way that makes Clake’s stomach lurch in discomfort. She swallows the sharp bite of jealousy, trying to move her eyes away from the vision.

_They’re friends, they’ve grown together._

She repeats the thought as a mantra, a prayer, while she tries to keep dancing with Lincoln and not think about the worst scenarios that pop in her mind. She trusts the brunette, she shouldn’t feel so jealous, but in the suffocating atmosphere of the club she can’t find a single breath of fresh air that could help her to think straight.

She abruptly stops when she sees Anya bending forward to push her ass against Lexa’s crotch.

It’s too much.

She needs to stop looking at that pathetic display and when Lexa laughs, accompanying the movement with a hold on Anya’s hips she feels not enough air in her lungs anymore.

She leaves Lincoln alone, who confusedly look at her, and, rushing through the dance floor, she reaches the table, searching for her coat in the pile of clothes casually dropped on one of the couches.

She wants to go away, to leave that place and to run in the chill air of the night. She doesn’t understand Lexa’s attitude, she can’t find an explanation in her brain that doesn’t end with the conclusion that Lexa fucks her “friend”.

“You’ll never be right together… You came from two different worlds. You’re milk and she’s oil, it’s a fuck-up to mix.”

Clarke turns her head through the voice and she raises her chin when she sees Raven, looking at her from her side and shaking her head with no mockery in her eyes. Clarke reads a resigned certainty in her black eyes, as if the brunette doesn’t know any other truth beyond that. They’re different, and they both know it.

Clarke doesn’t answer, rushing down the stairs and reaching the main door of the club without even buttoning up her coat. She steps outside, the dark coldness of the night air hits her with a roar and shiver runs down her spine. She takes a deep breath, her lungs burning and coming alive again at the same time thanks to the fresh air.

She starts walking, her mind laboring around Raven’s words and Lexa’s behavior. Is that right? Are they so different that Lexa needs to constantly come back to her people to survive? She’s not enough, they’re not the same. Clarke can put all her efforts in dressing like one of them, acting and dancing like one of them, forgetting all the lessons about straight back a plain shoulders, but the truth is what Raven affirmed so sternly.

They’ll never perfectly blend. They can try, stirring the mix again and again, enriching it with words and gestures and feelings, but they’ll never be the same.

“Clarke! Clarke wait!” Lexa’s voice interrupts the poisoning flow of thoughts running freely in her mind and she halts her step. She breaths deeply again, finding the strength to turn on her feet and face Lexa. The brunette is running toward her, in her sweatshirt and jeans; Apparently she doesn’t even retrieved her jacket before following her.

“Clarke, where are you going?” Lexa stops in front of her, her forehead still dampened by little drops of sweat generated by the heat of the club and her dancing. She catches her breath just for a second “What happened? I saw you running away”

The blonde swallows, her voice comes out harsh and angrier than she intended “You were quite busy with Anya”

“What?” Lexa frowns, her eyelids rapidly blinking “We were dancing… you with Lincoln and I with Anya!” The brunette opens her arms, shrugging lightly, failing to understand what the problem is.

“Oh right, and her ass casually landed on you dick?” Clarke steps closer, her eyes burning with the flame of jealousy, blue and icy as a frozen Ocean. She raises one hand, hitting Lexa’s chest with her index to enhance her words.

Lexa looks confusedly at her “We… were dancing! We are friends.” She stops for a second, clenching her jaw when she sees a flash of pain crossing Clarke’s eyes. The blonde’s lips are pressed together, her finger keeps pushing against her and Lexa catches her hand, softly opening her fingers to hold the palm between her owns.

“Look, I’m sorry if that made you jealous, there’s nothing between Anya and me… I would never do anything to hurt you.”

Lexa’s voice is honest and firm and Clarke swallows hard when the brunette takes another step toward her, nullifying every distance between them and cupping Clarke’s face with one hand. Green eyes are looking at her with such tenderness and so intensely magnetic that the blonde is unable to compile any rational complain about what Lexa has just said. She tries to open her mouth, but every word she processes fails to reach her tongue, dying in her throat, swallowed by the black holes burning in Lexa’s pupils.

“I love you.”  

 Clarke exhales, unable to believe to her ears for a second. Lexa murmured in such a low tone that she’s not sure she has heard correctly “W-what?” She asks, shaking slightly. She sees Lexa gulping the knot in her throat before smiling.

“I love you, Clarke.” Lexa repeats, slower and louder, tasting her own words on her tongue before spelling those unknown syllables. She seems to acknowledge the evidence of that feeling only in that very moment, her eyes fluttering, jumping all over Clarke’s feature to decipher her reaction.

 “I get that you’re angry,” She adds when the blonde doesn’t answer “And maybe it’s not the right moment… And if you don’t-”

“Lexa.”

“No, I just wanted you to know that-”

“Lexa.”

Clarke tries to interrupt the brunette again, but when Lexa opens her mouth to continue her rambling Clarke snorts, dragging the taller girl toward her by her neck, shutting her mouth with a kiss. A last word suffocates against Clarke’s lips when Lexa relaxes against her, wrapping her arms around Clarke, trapping her and holding her against her body. The blonde hums, deepening the kiss while her fingers play with the few unbraided locks on Lexa’s nape. When they part Clarke’s eyes are blurred, unfocused, but sweet.

“I love you too.”

Lexa lowers her head, a relieved laugh leaves her lips in a puff of steam. She hears her own heart palpitating in her chest and she needs to focus on her own body for a second to find the strength to talk again without stuttering.

“Do you wanna go home?” She asks, voice scratching her throat even if she tries to speak normally. She strokes Clarke’s back, when she finds her cobalt eyes again, her mind still numb, light, as if she hasn’t yet realized what Clarke has answered.

The blonde nods, sucking on her lower lips “Only if you sleep with me.”

 A laugh, and a kiss on the blonde’s forehead precede the answer in an amused, grave note.

“I think I can live through that.”

     

**Author's Note:**

> Let me know what you think!
> 
> And interact with me on Tumblr! @italianlexa.tumblr.com


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